Brian Stanley on Christianity in the Twentieth Century

StanleyChristianity in the Twentieth Century charts the transformation of one of the world’s great religions during an age marked by world wars, genocide, nationalism, decolonization, and powerful ideological currents, many of them hostile to Christianity. Written by a leading scholar of world Christianity, the book traces how Christianity evolved from a religion defined by the culture and politics of Europe to the expanding polycentric and multicultural faith it is today—one whose growing popular support is strongest in sub-Saharan Africa, Latin America, China, and other parts of Asia. Transnational in scope and drawing on the latest scholarship, Christianity in the Twentieth Century demonstrates how Christianity has had less to fear from the onslaughts of secularism than from the readiness of Christians themselves to accommodate their faith to ideologies that privilege racial identity or radical individualism.

Have there been any previous world histories of Christianity in the twentieth century before?

Perhaps surprisingly, the answer is only one or two, and they tend to be shorter text-book surveys that concentrate on Christianity in the Western world. There are several good one-volume histories of Christianity, and a few introductions to the contemporary reality of Christianity as a world religion, but historians of religion have generally avoided the twentieth century. They have been much more interested in the nineteenth century, when the churches were wrestling with the problems of industrial society and the questions raised by modern science and biblical criticism. The implicit, and false, assumption seemed to be that by about 1914 the crucial issues had all been decided, and that it was all downhill for Christian belief from then on.

What has been the biggest challenge in writing it?

Having written the book, I can readily appreciate why nobody has attempted quite this sort of project before: the need to try to do justice to all continents and all strands of the Christian tradition has made this the most difficult book I have ever undertaken.

Possibly the stiffest challenge has been deciding what to leave out, since no book of this nature can be totally comprehensive. I had to make my own decisions about which case studies to include and which to omit, and inevitably these decisions become quite personal. Another historian coming from a different sector of the Church and possessing different expertise would make a different selection.

Do you think Christianity was weaker or stronger in the year 2000 than it was in 1900?

Undoubtedly stronger, at least in terms of its global reach and its absolute numerical strength. Christianity by the end of the century was truly a global religion in a way it was not in 1900, despite all the efforts of Victorian missionary expansion.  Many parts of the Christian community had also discovered new sources of vibrant spirituality and confidence in their sense of mission, though it is hard for hard-pressed Christians in Europe or the eastern seaboard of the United States to appreciate that. But this is not a triumphalistic narrative of Christian progress: the churches in every continent in the twentieth century had to negotiate obstacles that were, if anything, even greater than those they had faced in the nineteenth century. Moreover, the percentage of the world population in 2000 that professed Christian allegiance was marginally lower than it was in 1900.

What challenges does your book pose to Christians?

It will force them to ask hard questions about the frequent failure of their predecessors to preserve the integrity of Christian faith in the face of enormous pressures—and I am not thinking of the pressures of overt state persecution so much as the insidious attractions of alluring ideologies that gnawed away at the fabric of historic Christian belief from the inside. The Church in every age, including our own, faces such pressures, and it is not very good at spotting them when they come along.

And what challenges does it pose to those who are not Christians?

My book suggests that the once-popular grand narrative of the twentieth century as the age of irreversible secularization on a global scale is demonstrably false, even though, as I have just acknowledged, the churches too often laid themselves open to racist or materialist perspectives that subverted the foundations of Christian belief. The history of Christianity is a constantly fluctuating narrative in which multiple challenges, such as those of injustice and oppression, provoke remarkable resurgences of Christian faith. These in turn invite their own contrary reactions whenever growing churches become too powerful or comfortable for their own spiritual good. Both believers and unbelievers should be challenged by this book.

What predictions would you make about the shape of Christianity in the year 2100?

My stock answer to this question is to say that the future is not my period. Most predictions made in 1900 about the spiritual course of the century to come—whether from Christian or atheistic sources—proved spectacularly wrong. Hence caution is the order of the day. But it seems likely that Christianity will continue to diversify in its multiple centers of gravity, and that its historic European lines of division inherited from the Reformation era will continue to fade in importance, being replaced by other fault lines of a more cultural nature. The current arguments over sexuality are one obvious example of that. Whatever the world Church will look like in 2100, it is probable that it will need another historian ambitious (or foolish!) enough to attempt a century from now to explain exactly what has changed, and why.

Brian Stanley is professor of world Christianity at the University of Edinburgh. His books include The Global Diffusion of Evangelicalism: The Age of Billy Graham and John Stott and The World Missionary Conference, Edinburgh 1910.

Sara Blair on How the Other Half Looks

BlairNew York City’s Lower East Side, long viewed as the space of what Jacob Riis notoriously called the “other half,” was also a crucible for experimentation in photography, film, literature, and visual technologies. Sara Blair takes an unprecedented look at the practices of observation that emerged from this critical site of encounter, showing how they have informed literary and everyday narratives of America, its citizens, and its possible futures. How the Other Half Looks reveals how the Lower East Side has inspired new ways of looking—and looking back—that have shaped literary and popular expression as well as American modernity.

How have representations of the Lower East Side changed since the mid-nineteenth century?

In surprising and powerful ways, they haven’t. A set of complex associations—with vice, poverty, raw energy, the threat of the alien and the unassimilated—have continued to swirl around New York’s historical ghetto through its many lives and afterlives, well into our own moment. Over time, these associations have drawn image-makers and writers there to experiment with new visual technologies, new perspectives, and new media. In a real way, the Lower East Side and its received image have helped shape modern practices of seeing and imaging—not just the other way around.

What do recent representations of the Lower East Side tell us about our cultural moment?

They remind us how much cultural work we do to continue imagining the project of America, what it means to be or become an American and to have a collective future. In the 2016 Harry Potter franchise film Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, for example, the unfolding of Magic as a contest between nativism and progressive aspirations (one that’s all too familiar to us IRL) depends on the Lower East Side as a space defined both by its threat to a “pure” citizenry and its promise of a more robust and dynamic nation. In a very different mode, the award-winning 2014 documentary Chasing Ice draws on images of the Lower East Side both to make real the unprecedented effects of climate change—and to hold out hope for its reversal. However unexpectedly, images of the Lower East Side continue to be a resource for apprehending the way we live now, bringing America’s histories and possible futures into view.

How did you approach the research for this book?  What surprised you?

I began this project by trying to answer a broader question: how did the Lower East Side become both a key subject of representation and a powerful force in shaping practices of representation? The problem of seeing that space—of making sense of its staggering density, heterogeneity, and energies—challenged image-makers, writers, journalists, guardians of public order, and everyday citizens alike to test new visual technologies, whose cultural uses came to reflect on-the-ground encounters with the world of the tenements and the streets. As I worked my way through a host of archives—of everyday photographs, print media, literary projects and more—what surprised me most was the range of practices that turn out to have been shaped by encounter with the Lower East Side, from the emergence of photography as an art form and the rise of the U.S. film industry to efforts to revive print culture in digital contexts. On all these and more, the Lower East Side has left its own indelible mark.

Are there instances of images that represent the Lower East Side shaping the site itself?

By all means. Early photographs of New York’s ghetto and tenements, made by Jacob Riis in the 1880s, not only codified uses of the camera as an agency of social seeing. They drove projects of slum clearance and social reform that shaped the built environment of New York’s downtown as well as hugely influential ideas about the city, its modernity, and its citizens. By the mid-1930s, in the grip of the Depression, photographers who had themselves been children of the ghetto were experimenting with new ways to represent its complex histories, using them as a vantage point to look critically at the American success narrative. Their work helped photography reinvent itself as a postwar art form—alongside the attention of urban planners who would undertake to redesign the tenement landscape in service of twentieth-century urbanism as a master plan. From lurid accounts of Bowery poverty and as-if “documentary” images of nuclear strike on the U.S., the iconography of the Lower East Side has remained vitally available, and it has continued to enter into the material life and lived experience of that generative place.

What do you hope readers will take away from reading this book?

I hope they’ll think differently about the Lower East Side, as a place of entry not just for historical newcomers to the United States but for understanding how we’ve come to view and imagine this rich, ongoing, incomplete experiment we call America. As my mother said (to my delight) when she browsed the book, this isn’t just about Jews. It’s about the way history lives and continues to shape our lives in images, and how we might learn to look back more acutely at that history, at a time when we urgently need to learn from it.

Sara Blair is the Patricia S. Yaeger Collegiate Professor of English and a faculty associate in the Department of American Culture and the Frankel Center for Judaic Studies at the University of Michigan. Her books include Harlem Crossroads: Black Writers and the Photograph in the Twentieth Century and Trauma and Documentary Photography of the FSA.

How the big pieces fit together: Europe’s place in the multipolar world

by Dr. John C. Hulsman

Introduction: The Lesson of the G7 train wreck

It’s official. After the calamitous G7 summit meeting in Canada, it is clear that an unbound Donald Trump is Europe’s worst nightmare. Although with typical unnecessary narcissism, he came late and left early, what Donald Trump did in his few short hours on Canadian soil will be commented on for years, as he emerged as a virtual caricature of everything Europeans hate about Americans.

Preternaturally over-confident and under-prepared, arrogant, and self-regarding, the president urged Russia be readmitted to the G7 club (despite its iron-clad control of Crimea and ruination of eastern Ukraine), doubled down on enraging European and Canadian allies alike over the brewing trade war (‘America is not a piggy bank’), and generally confirmed everyone’s worst fears that the White House actually prefers dealing with America’s authoritarian foes, such as China’s Xi Jinping, North Korea’s Kim Jong-un, and Russia’s Vladimir Putin, rather than the vexing, well-meaning, but weak democratic pygmies who populate the standard multilateral meeting. Surely, after such an odious display the rest of the democratic world must rise up in righteous indignation and…

Well, the best I can come up with is snub Trump administration appointments at formal cocktail parties. For the bleak truth lying behind Donald Trump’s appalling, wrong-headed policies and behaviour in Canada is that the rest of the democratic world is pathetically weak and bereft of agency. As such, while they seethe with disgust at having to put up with the odious president, there is nothing practically they are prepared to do to stop him. This most transactional of presidents has inadvertently but graphically illustrated how practically irrelevant America’s western allies, particularly in Europe, truly are.

Be careful what you wish for

This is all so different from the dreams of a new multipolar world that so animated European thinkers during the long days of the bipolar Cold War. Then, European policy intellectuals—particularly in France—dreamed of living in a multipolar age that would follow victory over the Soviet Union in the Cold War, a time when Europe would finally achieve the strategic flexibility to have its own independent foreign and security policy, no longer shackled to (but still vaguely allied with) the US. But this long-term strategic goal amounted to little more than emotional wish-fulfilment, predicated as it was on two unremarked upon suppositions.

The first was that the relative diminution in American global power would be meekly accepted by a US long used to running things. In other words, a series of President Obamas would shepherd the US to accept its new central, but relatively more limited, structural position in the multipolar world. To put it mildly, a President Trump—whose very campaign slogan ‘Make America Great Again’ is an overly emotional refutation of America’s relative decline—was not reckoned on.

Second, it was blithely assumed by European thinkers that their continent would undoubtedly and effortlessly emerge as the principal new force in this new world of many powers. As China rose during the latter days of the Cold War, following Deng Xiaoping’s historic opening in December 1978, European thinkers did foresee a world where a rising Asia would join America, Europe, Japan, and a diminished Russia as the main players on the global strategic scene (India was little thought of). But the notion that Europe would be by a long way the weakest of these great powers—politically divided, economically sclerotic, and militarily puny—never entered their thoughts.

As a result, while European thinkers seemed to pine for a multipolar world, in reality it was a new era where their continent was rising—as America was falling and the Soviets were non-existent—that was their real dream. Donald Trump’s petulant performance (and Europe’s anaemic non-response) at the just concluded G7 meeting glaringly illustrates that today’s world is simply not the sort of multipolarity European thinkers ever had in mind.

What Europe Should Do

Most foreign policy articles (and I have written over 500 of them) are cries in the wilderness, futile exercises where the analyst proposes outcomes that they know will never come to pass. Nevertheless, it remains the duty of every political risk analyst to try, to posit what can be practically done to retrieve strategic situations, for irretrievable decline is a choice and not a preordained destiny.

In this spirit, what can Europe do to make itself relevant as a Great Power in the real multipolar era we actually now live in? First, psychologically accept that while Trump is an extreme case, American leaders in general are transactional in nature; they will only take European concerns on board if it is viewed as a serious power capable of going its own way in terms of genuine practical policy consequences. Global politics is not a debating society; what matters are the views of the great strategic players, and the power they bring to bear—political, economic, strategic, diplomatic, and social—to further their interests. Europe must stop passively watching the world, and either master history, or history will surely master it.

Second, the Europeans have to act in a far more unitary manner in terms of foreign and security policy. Russia, an economic basket case in comparison (its economy is smaller than that of Italy), is the relevant comparison. For all that it is a corrupt, demographically decaying one-trick economic pony, a decrepit gas station utterly dependent on the spot price of oil and natural gas, Moscow punches far above its actual weight on the global scene.

The reason? President Putin can make decisive, unitary, foreign policy decisions for his country that are quickly acted on. Russia—as the Crimea episode illustrated—is still prepared to spend blood and treasure, to make real sacrifices to further the country’s foreign policy goals and interests. At present, I am not sure many in Brussels would be prepared to sacrifice a week’s holiday to do much of anything. For once and for all, Europe and its leaders have to decide if their foreign policy amounts to merely virtue signalling, or whether they are prepared to make the sacrifices to actually matter in the world.  

 To do so, an inner core of the key western European states—Germany, France, Italy, Spain, and The Netherlands—must move ahead, and actually begin to craft such a common foreign policy. Failure to do so will inevitably lead the other great powers to cherry pick Europe, to keep dividing the place precisely because it is inherently divided. It is not the fault of the outside powers, as states since time immemorial have taken advantage of their rival’s weaknesses. Rather it is the fault of a Europe that simply can’t get its act together.

Finally, as the mediocre age of Merkel subsides, endemic problems must be solved, rather than merely managed. Across the continent, Europe must free up its animal spirits and find a way to increase average growth rates to around two percent, if horrendous rates of youth unemployment and endemic economic torpor are to be righted. President Macron’s courageous and largely successful labour market reforms are a start, by more needs to be done.

With France as a nucleus, and after decades of torturous (and maddening) inaction, the major European countries must commit themselves to some level of serious defence spending, as without an army their moralistic lectures are just that, and nothing more. Finally, and again Macron is onto something here, ‘A Certain Idea of Europe,’ the idea of a strong, distinct, unique and blessed Europe, a sacred place whose interests and values are worth fighting for on the global stage, must be advanced as a unifying clarion call to action.

It is not too late for Europe to emerge as its thinkers once dreamed it would, and Trump’s odious behaviour in Canada surely serves as a call to arms. But it is one minute to the midnight of Europe’s strategic irrelevance.

Dr. John C. Hulsman is President and Managing Partner of John C. Hulsman Enterprises, a prominent global political-risk consulting firm. He is the author of To Dare More Boldly: The Audacious Story of Political Risk. He lives in Milan, Italy.

Eli Maor on Music by the Numbers

MaorThat music and mathematics are somehow related has been known for centuries. Pythagoras, around the 5th century BCE, may have been the first to discover a quantitative relation between the two: experimenting with taut strings, he found out that shortening the effective length of a string to one half its original length raises the pitch of its sound by an agreeable interval—an octave. Other ratios of string lengths produced smaller intervals: 2:3 corresponds to a fifth (so called because it is the fifth note up the scale from the base note), 3:4 corresponded to a fourth, and so on. Moreover, Pythagoras found out that multiplying two ratios corresponds to adding their intervals: (2:3) x (3:4) = 1:2, so a fifth plus a fourth equals an octave. In doing so, Pythagoras discovered the first logarithmic law in history. The relations between musical intervals and numerical ratios have fascinated scientists ever since. Johannes Kepler, considered the father of modern astronomy, spent half his lifetime trying to explain the motion of the known planets by relating them to musical intervals. Half a century later, Isaac Newton formulated his universal law of gravitation, thereby providing a rational, mathematical explanation for the planetary orbits. But he too was obsessed with musical ratios: he devised a “palindromic” musical scale and compared its intervals to the rainbow colors of the spectrum. Still later, four of Europe’s top mathematicians would argue passionately over the exact shape of a vibrating string. In doing so, they contributed significantly to the development of post-calculus mathematics, while at the same time giving us a fascinating glimpse into their personal relations and fierce rivalries. As Eli Maor points out in Music by the Numbers, the “Great String Debate” of the eighteenth century has some striking similarities to the equally fierce debate over the nature of quantum mechanics in the 1920s.

What brought you to write a book on such an unusual subject? 

The ties between music and mathematics have fascinated me from a young age. My grandfather played his violin for me when I was five years old, and I still remember it quite clearly. He also spent many hours explaining to me various topics from his physics book, from which he himself had studied many years earlier. In the chapter on sound there was a musical staff showing the note A with a number under it: 440, the frequency of that note. It may have been this image that first triggered my fascination with the subject. I still have that physics book and I treasure it immensely. My grandfather must have studied it thoroughly, as his penciled annotations appear on almost every page.

Did you study the subject formally?

Yes. I did my master’s and later my doctoral thesis in acoustics at the Technion – Israel Institute of Technology. There was just one professor who was sufficiently knowledgeable in the subject, and he agreed to be my advisor. But first we had to find a department willing to take me under its wing, and that turned out to be tricky. To me acoustics was a branch of physics, but the physics department saw it as just an engineering subject. So I applied to the newly-founded Department of Mechanics, and they accepted me. The coursework included a heavy load of technical subjects—strength of materials, elasticity, rheology, and the theory of vibrations—all of which I did as independent studies. In the process I learned a lot of advanced mathematics, especially Fourier series and integrals. It served me well in my later work.

What about your music education?

I started my musical education playing Baroque music on the recorder, and later I took up the clarinet. This instrument has the unusual feature that when you open the thumb hole on the back side of the bore, the pitch goes up not by an octave, as with most woodwind instruments, but by a twelfth—an octave and a fifth. This led me to dwell into the acoustics of wind instruments. I was—and still am—intrigued by the fact that a column of air can vibrate and produce an agreeable sound just like a violin string. But you have to rely entirely on your ear to feel those vibrations; they are totally invisible to the eye.

When I was a physics undergraduate at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, a group of students and professors decided to start an amateur orchestra, and I joined. At one of our performances we played Mozart’s overture to The Magic Flute. There is one bar in that overture where the clarinet plays solo, and it befell upon me to play it. I practiced for that single bar again and again, playing it perhaps a hundred times simultaneously with a vinyl record playing on a gramophone. Finally the evening arrived and I played my piece—all three seconds of it. At intermission I asked a friend of mine in the audience, a concert pianist, how did it go. “Well,” she said, “you played it too fast.”  Oh Lord!  I was only glad that Mozart wasn’t present!

Throughout your book there runs a common thread—the parallels between musical and mathematical frames of reference. Can you elaborate on this comparison? 

For about 300 years—roughly from 1600 to 1900—classical music was based on the principle of tonality: a composition was always tied to a given home key, and while deviating from it during the course of the work, the music was invariably related to that key. The home key thus served as a musical frame of reference in which the work was set, similar to a universal frame of reference to which the laws of classical physics were supposed to be bound.

But in the early 1900s, Arnold Schoenberg set out to revolutionize music composition by proposing his tone row, or series, consisting of all twelve semitones of the octave, each appearing exactly once before the series is completed. No more was each note defined by its relation to the tonic, or base note; in Schoenberg’s system a complete democracy reigned, each note being related only to the note preceding it in the series. This new system bears a striking resemblance to Albert Einstein’s general theory of relativity, in which no single frame of reference has a preferred status over others. Music by the Numbers expands on this fascinating similarity, as well as on the remarkable parallels between the lives of Schoenberg and Einstein.

You also touch on some controversial subjects. Can you say a few words about them?

It is generally believed that over the ages, mathematics has had a significant influence on music. Attempts to quantify music and subject it to mathematical rules began with Pythagoras himself, who invented a musical scale based entirely on his three “perfect intervals”—the octave, the fifth, and the fourth. From a mathematical standpoint it was a brilliant idea, but it was out of sync with the laws of physics; in particular, it ignored other important intervals such as the major and minor thirds. Closer to our time, Schoenberg’s serial music was another attempt to generate music by the numbers. It aroused much controversy, and after half a century during which his method was the compositional system to follow, enthusiasm for atonal music has waned.

But it is much less known that the attraction between the two disciplines worked both ways. I have already mentioned the Great String Debate of the eighteenth century—a prime example of how a problem originating in music has ended up advancing a new branch of mathematics: post-calculus analysis. It is also interesting to note that quite a few mathematical terms have their origin in music, such as harmonic series, harmonic mean, and harmonic functions, to name but a few.

Perhaps the most successful collaboration between the two disciplines was the invention of the equal-tempered scale—the division of the octave into twelve equally-spaced semitones. Although of ancient origins, this new tuning method has become widely known through Johann Sebastian Bach’s The Well-Tempered Clavier— his two sets of keyboard preludes and fugues covering all 24 major and minor scales. Controversial at the time, it has become the standard tuning system of Western music.

In your book there are five sidebars, one of which with the heading “Music for the Record Books: The Lowest, the Longest, the Oldest, and the Weirdest.”  Can you elaborate on them?

Yes. The longest piece of music ever performed—or more precisely, is still being performed—is a work for the organ at the St. Burkhardt Church in the German town of Halberstadt. The work was begun in 2003 and is an ongoing project, planned to be unfolding for the next 639 years. There are eight movements, each lasting about 71 years. The work is a version of John Cages’ composition As Slow as Possible. As reported by The New York Times, “The organ’s bellows began their whoosh on September 5, 2001, on what would have been Cage’s 89th birthday. But nothing was heard because the score begins with a rest—of 20 months. It was only on February 5, 2003, that the first chord, two G-sharps and a B in between, was struck.” It will be interesting to read the reviews when the work finally comes to an end in the year 2640.

I’ll mention one more piece for the record books: in 2012, astronomers discovered the lowest known musical note in the universe. Why astronomers?  Because the source of this note is the galaxy cluster Abell 426, some 250 million light years away. The cluster is surrounded by hot gas at a temperature of about 25,000,000 degrees Celsius, and it shows concentric ripples spreading outward—acoustic pressure waves. From the speed of sound at that temperature—about 1,155 km/sec—and the observed spacing between the ripples—some 36,000 light years—it is easy to find the frequency of the sound, and thus its pitch: a B-flat nearly 57 octaves below middle C. Says the magazine Sky & Telescope, “You’d need to add 635 keys to the left end of your piano keyboard to produce that note!  Even a contrabassoon won’t go that low.”

Eli Maor has taught the history of mathematics at Loyola University Chicago until his recent retirement. He is the author of six previous books by Princeton University Press: To Infinity and Beyonde: the Story of a NumberTrigonometric DelightsThe Pythagorean TheoremVenus in Transit; and Beautiful Geometry (with Eugen Jost). He is also an active amateur astronomer, has participated in over twenty eclipse and transit expeditions, and is a contributing author to Sky & Telescope.

Konrad Jarausch on Broken Lives: How Ordinary Germans Experienced the 20th Century

Broken LivesBroken Lives is a gripping account of the twentieth century as seen through the eyes of ordinary Germans who came of age under Hitler and whose lives were scarred and sometimes destroyed by what they saw and did. Konrad Jarausch argues that this generation’s focus on its own suffering, often maligned by historians, ultimately led to a more critical understanding of national identity—one that helped transform Germany from a military aggressor into a pillar of European democracy. The result is a powerful account of the everyday experiences and troubling memories of average Germans who journeyed into, through, and out of the abyss of a dark century.

How did ordinary Germans experience the cataclysms of the 20th century?
During the tumultuous twentieth century, ordinary Germans often felt overwhelmed by events over which they had no control. Starting with the defeat of World War I, they ex­perienced a series of disasters such as hyperinflation, depression, Nazi dictatorship, renewed war, Holocaust, flight and expulsion, division, and Communist repression that left them scrambling to survive. Except for short periods in the late Empire, middle of the Weimar Republic, and beginning of the Third Reich, times were tough and unpredictable, putting a premium on adaptability. As a result of the disastrous decisions of elites, they had to deal with a stunning succession of five different political systems within the course of a single century. In contrast to the normal progression of life stages in more fortunate neighboring countries like Switzerland, the past seemed problematic, the present challenging, and the future uncertain. This book seeks to explore this neglected human dimension of events by drawing on seven dozen untutored autobiographies that cover their entire life-spans from the Empire to united Germany.

What amazing stories do their memoirs tell about suffering, survival, or success?
As related in these personal memoirs, the facts regarding the impact of such upheavals on individual lives are often stranger than fiction. While perpetrators of crimes rarely admit their misdeeds, the many bystanders recount their struggle to cope with multiple dangers by compliance or evasion, seeking to get through them as best as they could. Endlessly repeated at bars and kaffeeklatches, their life-stories focus on avoiding death at the front, not dying in bombing raids, fleeing from the Red Army, making it through post-war hunger and cold, while dealing with a succession of shifting ideological demands. The narratives of political or racial victims such as Communists or Jews instead focus on their suffering and miraculous survival, unlike many comrades or family members killed in mass murder. Only after the war are Western narratives able to celebrate successful rebuilding and prosperity. These are astounding accounts show how normal individuals were trying to live in highly abnormal times. Offering a chorus of diverse voices, the present book is an effort to present their stories to a wider public.

Why did young people born in the 1920s get drawn into the Nazi dictatorship?
The children of the Weimar Republic proved especially vulnerable to Nazi appeals because Hitler’s propaganda promised to lead the young to a better future. The inability of their parents to deal with the effects of the Great Depression had discredited adult leadership. While schools indoctrinated adolescents in racist nationalism, the peer group in the Hitler Youth pressured insecure youths to join the exciting activities like hiking, camping, and paramilitary training. Too inexperienced to develop a political judgement of their own, most young people fell under the spell of the Führer and a movement that vowed to create a true “people’s community” without class distinctions and to make Germany great again by overturning the “shameful peace treaty” of Versailles. Only children from religious families, Communist parents, or Jewish backgrounds were excluded. The overwhelming majority of the young Aryans could feel emboldened by being treated like the avant-garde of a better future. Most did not understand that they would have to pay for this allegiance with their own lives.

How did World War II, the Holocaust, and the Cold War break their lives apart?
Instead of ushering in a brighter future with Germans ruling the continent, the Nazi dictatorship unleashed repression, war, and genocide. Already before 1939 the political and racial victims of the Third Reich experienced persecution, incarceration, and expulsion, if fortunate to get away. During the war many Nazi enthusiasts among the young men were killed in action in the Wehrmacht’s war of annihilation during its spectacular victories and inexorable defeats. Young women at the home front had to work in war-production factories, huddle in air raid shelters, and try to flee from the advancing Red Army in order to avoid repeated rape. While political victims suffered in penitentiaries, those Jewish Germans who had not managed to escape in time struggled to survive in the underground, during selection in concentration camps, and in death-marches at the end. Even after the fighting ended, many died of starvation, cold, and disease. Without regard to political commitment or racial belonging, this vortex of death and destruction broke millions of lives apart, leaving even survivors in a sea of suffering.

How did they as adults gradually turn into democrats or communists after the war?
With the end of hostilities, the remaining Weimar children had to pick up the pieces and become responsible adults. Trying to make sense of their horrible experiences, many retreated into their private lives by finishing professional training, getting jobs, and founding families. In the remnants of Germany, divided by the Cold War, they faced an ideological choice: should they try to become Western style democrats or follow the Communist dream of a classless society in the East? Since with American aid the Federal Republic of Germany experienced an Economic Miracle, many were willing to side with the West. Attracted by the promise of a peaceful egalitarianism, others chose the German Democratic Republic of the East even if it was a Soviet satellite. Though a series of Nazi scandals tarnished the Bonn government, ultimately the generational rebellion of 1968 turned it into a liberal society whereas the anti-fascist promise of the SED regime became a communist dictatorship. Only with the peaceful revolution and reunification of 1989/90, did Western democracy win the ideological contest in the end.

Why did their memories become surprisingly self-critical decades after the events?
Though Weimar children were too busy to confront their own past during their professional careers, many begun a painful process of self-examination after their retirement. In a diachronic reflection, these authors compared their youthful Nazi enthusiasm with their adult convictions as democrats or socialists, and tried to figure out how they could have believed such a racist nationalism as adolescents. Encouraged by political leaders, intellectuals and the media, they began to question their own earlier lack of sympathy for their persecuted Jewish neighbors as well as the exploited slave laborers or Russian POWs, pondering what they had witnessed of the mass murder during the Holocaust. In some cases, this admission of guilt for supporting the Third Reich and failing to act humanely towards its victims even led to nervous breakdowns, healed only by active engagement for progressive causes. While all memoirists stressed their own suffering, a minority went even further and embraced a public memory culture that has made Germans exceptionally self-critical when compared with to their former allies.

What lessons of human rights, pacifism and social solidarity do they hold for the future?
In a surprisingly broad consensus, ordinary autobiographies show that Germans have drawn largely similar conclusions for the future. Unfortunately, there are still some nationalist holdouts who blame the harsh treatment by the Allies or hold Hitler and the Nazi bosses responsible for their predicament. But most writers want to teach their own families as well as the general public an essential lesson in order to prevent the recurrence of such horrible events: their political messages cluster around the importance of human rights as antidote to dictatorship; the need for peace as barrier against another devastating world war; and the imperative of social solidarity as obstacle to a return of demagogic populism. Beyond the sheer drama of their life-stories, it is this collective learning process which makes reading these personal accounts worthwhile. As a paradigmatic resume of their broken lives, the autobiographies of the Weimar children emphasize that everyone should heed the warning of their disastrous experiences during the Third Reich.

Konrad H. Jarausch is the Lurcy Professor of European Civilization at the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill. His many books include Out of Ashes: A New History of Europe in the Twentieth Century and Reluctant Accomplice: A Wehrmacht Soldier’s Letters from the Eastern Front. He lives in Chapel Hill and Berlin.

A Big Deal: Organic Molecules Found on Mars

by David Weintraub

MarsIn 1976, both Viking 1 and Viking 2 touched down on the surface of Mars. Both landed on vast, flat plains, chosen because they were ideal locations for landing safely. Perhaps the most important Viking experiment for assessing whether life could exist on Mars was the gas chromatograph and mass spectrometer (GCMS) instrument, built by a team led by Klaus Biermann of MIT. Ultimately, Biermann and his GCMS team reported a definitive answer: “No organic compounds were found at either of the two landing sites.” None, nada, zilch.

This scientific discovery had enormous importance for our understanding Mars. Summing up what we learned from the Viking missions in 1992, and in particular what we learned from the absence of any organics in the sampled Martian soil, a team of Viking scientists wrote, “The Viking findings established that there is no life at the two landing sites.” Furthermore, because these two sites were thought to be extremely representative of all of Mars, they concluded that this result “virtually guarantees that the Martian surface is lifeless everywhere.” 

If Mars is sterile, then SpaceX and NASA and Blue Origin and Mars One can all move forward with their efforts to land colonists on Mars in the near future. They needn’t wrestle with any ethical issues about contaminating Mars.

Fast forward a generation. In a paper published in Science last week, Jennifer Eigenbrode and her team, working with data collected by the Mars Science Laboratory (i.e., the Curiosity rover), report that they discovered organic molecules in Martian soil. The importance of this discovery for the possible existence of life on Mars is hard to overstate. The discovery of organics on Mars is a BIG deal.

Let’s be careful in discussing organic molecules. An organic molecule must contain at least one carbon atom and that carbon atom must be chemically bonded to a hydrogen atom. All life on Earth is built on a backbone (literally) of organic molecules (DNA). And life on Earth can produce organic molecules (for example, the methane that is produced in the stomachs of cows). But abiological processes can also make organic molecules. In fact, the universe is full of such molecules known as PAHs (polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons), which are found in interstellar clouds and the atmospheres of red giant stars and which have absolutely nothing to do with life.

Repeat: the presence of organic molecules on Mars does not mean life has been found on Mars. The absence of organic molecules in the Martian soil, as discovered in the Viking experiments, however, almost certainly means “no life here.” 

Were the Viking scientists wrong? Yes, in part. Their conclusion that the plains of Mars are representative of every locale on Mars was an overreach. When assessing whether the environment on Mars might be hospitable to life, local matters. That conclusion shouldn’t surprise anyone. After all, we find significant differences on Earth between the amount and kinds of life in the Mojave Desert and the Amazon River basin. Why? Water.

The vast, flat plains of Mars are free of organics, but they are unlike Gale Crater. Gale Crater was once a lake, full of water and dissolved minerals. We know now that certain locations on Mars that were warm and wet for extended periods of time in the ancient past have preserved a record of the organic molecules that formed in those environments.

Could life have played a role in creating these molecules?  Maybe, but we don’t know, yet. We do know, however, where to keep looking. We do know where to send the next several generations of robots. We do know that we should build robotic explorers that can drill deep into the soil and explore caves in places similar to Gale Crater.

Abigail Allwood, working at NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory, is building a detector called PIXL that will be sent to Mars on a rover mission that is scheduled for launch in 2020. PIXL will be able to make smart decisions, based on the chemistry of a rock, as to whether that rock sample might contain ancient, fossilized microbes. A later mission might retrieve Allwood’s PIXL specimens and bring them back to Earth for more sophisticated laboratory studies. With instruments like PIXL, we have a good chance of definitively answering the question, “Does Mars or did Mars ever have life?”

What does the presence of organic molecules in the Martian regolith mean, as discovered by Curiosity? Those molecules could mean that life is or once was present on Mars. Finding those molecules just raised the stakes in the search for life on Mars. The jury is still out, but the betting odds just changed.

Given all we currently know about Mars, should we be sending astronauts to Mars in the next decade? Do we have the right to contaminate Mars if is already home to native Martian microbes? These are important questions that are more relevant than ever. 

David A. Weintraub is professor of astronomy at Vanderbilt University. He is the author of Life on Mars: What to Know Before We GoReligions and Extraterrestrial Life: How Will We Deal with It?How Old Is the Universe?, and Is Pluto a Planet?: A Historical Journey through the Solar System. He lives in Nashville.

Browse our 2018 History of Science & History of Knowledge Catalog

We are pleased to announce our new History of Science & History of Knowledge catalog for 2018! Among the exciting new titles are an annotated edition of Albert Einstein’s travel diaries, a new look at the history of heredity, eugenics, and the asylum, and the latest volume of The Collected Papers of Albert Einstein.

 

The Travel Diaries of Albert Einstein makes available the complete journal that Einstein kept on his momentous 1922 journey to the Far East and Middle East.

The telegraphic-style diary entries—quirky, succinct, and at times irreverent—record Einstein’s musings on science, philosophy, art, and politics, as well as his immediate impressions and broader thoughts on particular events and encounters. Entries also contain passages that reveal Einstein’s stereotyping of members of various nations and raise questions about his attitudes on race. This beautiful edition features stunning facsimiles of the diary’s pages, accompanied by an English translation, an extensive historical introduction, numerous illustrations, and annotations.

This volume offers an initial, intimate glimpse into a brilliant mind encountering the great, wide world.

In the early 1800s, a century before there was any concept of the gene, physicians in insane asylums began to record causes of madness in their admission books. Almost from the beginning, they pointed to heredity as the most important of these causes. Genetics in the Madhouse is the untold story of how the collection and sorting of hereditary data in mental hospitals, schools for “feebleminded” children, and prisons gave rise to a new science of human heredity.

In this compelling book, Theodore Porter draws on untapped archival evidence from across Europe and North America to bring to light the hidden history behind modern genetics. Porter argues that asylum doctors developed many of the ideologies and methods of what would come to be known as eugenics, and deepens our appreciation of the moral issues at stake in data work conducted on the border of subjectivity and science.

A bold rethinking of the asylum, Genetics in the Madhouse shows how heredity was a human science as well as a medical and biological one.

Volume 15 of The Collected Papers of Albert Einstein covers one of the most thrilling two-year periods in twentieth-century physics. The almost one hundred writings by Einstein, of which a third have never been published, and the more than thirteen hundred letters show Einstein’s immense productivity and hectic pace of life.

Between June 1925 and May 1927, Einstein quickly grasps the conceptual peculiarities involved in the new quantum mechanics and investigates the problem of motion in general relativity, hoping for a hint at a new avenue to unified field theory. He also falls victim to scientific fraud and experiences rekindled love for an old sweetheart. He participates in the League of Nations’ International Committee on Intellectual Cooperation and remains intensely committed to the shaping of the Hebrew University in Jerusalem, although his enthusiasm for this cause is sorely tested.

THE COLLECTED PAPERS OF ALBERT EINSTEIN is one of the most ambitious publishing ventures ever undertaken in the documentation of the history of science.  Selected from among more than 40,000 documents contained in the personal collection of Albert Einstein (1879-1955), and 20,000 Einstein and Einstein-related documents discovered by the editors since the beginning of the Einstein Papers Project, The Collected Papers provides the first complete picture of a massive written legacy that ranges from Einstein’s first work on the special and general theories of relativity and the origins of quantum theory, to expressions of his profound concern with international cooperation and reconciliation, civil liberties, education, Zionism, pacifism, and disarmament. The open access digital edition of the first 14 volumes of the Collected Papers is available online at einsteinpapers.press.princeton.edu.

Kay Lehman Schlozman, Henry E. Brady & Sidney Verba on Unequal and Unrepresented

UnequalThe Declaration of Independence proclaims equality as a foundational American value. However, Unequal and Unrepresented finds that political voice in America is not only unequal but also unrepresentative. Those who are well educated and affluent carry megaphones. The less privileged speak in a whisper. Relying on three decades of research and an enormous wealth of information about politically individuals and organizations, Kay Schlozman, Henry Brady, and Sidney Verba offer a concise synthesis and update of their groundbreaking work on political participation. Citing real-life examples and examining inequalities from multiple perspectives, Unequal and Unrepresented shows how disparities in political voice endanger American democracy today.  

Unpack the title for me. What do you mean that “political voice” is “unequal and unrepresentative?”

People and organizations express political voice to influence government action. They do this by voting, the most common participatory act; by engaging in activities that require an investment of their time, for example, getting in touch with a public official or volunteering in an electoral campaign; and by providing money to affect politics such as making contributions to electoral campaigns or political organizations.

Most people’s participation is limited to voting, but some people amplify their voices by devoting a great deal of time, energy, and money to politics. Unequal political voice is not, on the face of it, a problem for American democracy. But unequal voice that is also unrepresentative poses a threat to democracy. Those with louder voices—who are likely to be well-educated and well-heeled—get heard while those who can only speak in a whisper are ignored. Describing his calls to potential donors, Representative Chris Murphy of Connecticut put it this way: “I know that when I’ve been raising money, I’m not hearing from a representative sample…. I talked a lot more about carried interest [a tax provision giving favorable treatment to the earnings of partners at private equity firms and hedge funds] in that call room than I did at the supermarket.” This social class tilt, which characterizes every form of political voice except perhaps protest, is especially pronounced for any activity that involves making financial contributions.

What does the skewing of political voice in the direction those with high levels of income and education mean for what public officials hear? 

What decision-makers hear from political activists is not representative of the opinions, concerns, and needs of the population as a whole. Political activists are more conservative on economic issues and sometimes more liberal on social issues. Activists with high levels of education and income are much less likely than the disadvantaged to report that their activity is animated by a matter of basic human need such as hunger, housing, or health care.

Those who are politically active also have different life circumstances. They are, on average, less likely to be in need of health care, to have to cut-back in spending in order to make ends meet, or to use government benefit programs. In addition, those who benefit from such non-means-tested programs as Social Security or Medicare are much more likely to undertake political action—for example to make a voting decision or to contact a public official—in association with that program than are beneficiaries of such means-tested programs as food stamps (SNAP) or Medicaid, who are by definition economically needy. In short, political activists communicate a skewed set of messages about what citizens care about, want, and need.

Don’t all those organizations that get involved in politics overcome the class stratification in political voice? Doesn’t every possible interest have an organization to advocate on its behalf in Washington?

If only. On the contrary, many interests with a stake in public policy are not represented by organizations. For example, thousands of membership associations active in Washington politics represent people in terms of their occupations. Yet, unless they are union members, those who make their living as office receptionists, Wal-Mart associates, parking lot attendants, bellhops, telemarketers, laundry workers, van drivers, and bartenders have no occupational associations at all to represent their interests in Washington. In fact, other than unions, not a single occupational organization represents the shared concerns of those whose work is unskilled. Moreover, there are no organizations that bring together recipients of means-tested government benefits such as Medicaid or SNAP acting on their own behalf. Similarly, those caring for aging relatives at home, workers required to sign non-compete clauses, holders of sub-prime mortgages, and parents seeking high-quality child care have no organization dedicated to their concerns.

In contrast, affluent interests, especially business, are very well represented. In fact, a majority, 52 percent, of the organizations active in Washington represent business in one way or another. These business organizations account for more than three-quarters, 77 percent, of the spending on lobbying, and unions representing workers spend only about 1 percent.

Has it always been this way or has the New Gilded Age ushered in a new era of plutocracy with greatly enhanced inequalities of political voice?

Both. On one hand, for at least a half century, nearly all forms of political voice have tilted in the direction of the well-educated and affluent. On the other, modes of political advocacy that depend upon money—both for lobbying and for campaign contributions—have taken on increased importance in the past generation, which means that the voices of the affluent have become relatively louder during the New Gilded Age. This development is fortified by economic trends. Economic growth during this period has benefited an extremely narrow slice of households at the very top of the economic ladder, producing a small group that is in a position to invest vast resources in politics. In this way, economic and political inequality reinforce one another. More economic inequality means more political inequality which, in turn, means more economic inequality.

Don’t social movements help to overcome inequalities by mobilizing into politics those who are less affluent and well educated?

Social movements grab attention because they are not simply politics as usual but instead bring into politics new issues and newly activated activists. Some movements—for example, the labor movement at the end of the nineteenth century and Black Lives Matter much more recently—do bring less advantaged publics into politics. But the United States also has a long tradition of mobilizations of middle-class adherents, including the abolition, temperance, environmental, and Tea Party movements.

What is not ordinarily recognized is an ordinary, and much more common, process by which friends and relatives, fellow church members, and co-workers ask one another to get involved in politics. Because those who make requests for political activity seek out prospects who are likely to accede to the request to participate and to participate effectively—by, for example, making a large campaign donation or writing a compelling e-mail—when they take part, activity undertaken in response to a request is actually more unequal than is activity undertaken spontaneously.

What about the possibilities for political participation on the Internet or through social media?  Don’t these new technologies ameliorate inequalities of political voice?

When the Internet was in its infancy, optimistic assessments predicted that Internet-based political activity would be free of the educational and income stratification so typical of traditional offline participation. Contrary to those expectations, the bias in the direction of the affluent and well-educated of participatory acts performed online—for example, signing a petition, contacting a senator, or making a campaign contribution to a candidate for governor—reproduces the pattern for their offline counterparts. Social class stratification is also typical of political involvement through social media. These new technologies do, however, make political voice more representative in one way: young adults in their late teens and twenties, traditionally a relatively politically quiescent group, are not underrepresented when to comes to political participation on the Internet or political involvement through social media.

In the past, periods of democratic discontent—the Progressive Era, for example—have spawned democratizing reforms like party primaries and the direct election of Senators. Are there reforms that hold promise for overcoming inequalities of political voice?

Reforms in two areas, voting and campaign finance, could ameliorate inequalities of political voice. A number of states have implemented procedural changes that make it easier to vote in the hopes of raising turnout and, in turn, making the electorate more representative of the adult population. Unfortunately, democratizing the electorate is not easy. Many reforms designed to raise turnout fail to do so. Even reforms that boost turnout do not necessarily make the electorate more representative. Instead, the additional voters drawn to the polls replicate the characteristics of the core electorate. Besides, many states are moving in the opposite direction—passing voter ID legislation that erects barriers to the vote. Although the impact of voter ID laws is not yet clear, it is quite possible that their effect will be to produce electorates that are less representative with respect to both class and race.

As for campaign finance, beginning about a decade ago, a series of federal court decisions struck down several campaign finance provisions and afforded greater First Amendment protection to political contributions as a form of speech. In the aftermath, the electoral system has been swamped with cash from extremely wealthy individuals. As a consequence, the campaign finance environment seems to be changing dramatically in ways that, if anything, further tilt the playing field. In short, when it comes to procedural reform, it seems that anything that would make much difference in reducing inequalities of political voice is currently either politically infeasible or constitutionally proscribed; and anything that is currently both politically possible and constitutionally acceptable would not make much difference.

One final question, is there anything in the recent news that illustrates the patterns you found?

The 2017 tax reform bill confirms our analysis of unequal political voice. The details of the bill reveal both an overall bias in the direction of the affluent and the impact of lobbying by well-organized, but often narrow, interests. While reduction in the corporate income tax rate from 35 percent to 21 percent is permanent, many of the provisions that benefit middle-income taxpayers are temporary. Among those receiving favorable tax treatment are heirs to large estates, craft brewers, real estate developers, owners of golf courses, and parents planning to send children to private elementary and high school. The tax bill had surprisingly little public support. Why were Republicans in Congress so impatient to pass a bill that  was not especially popular with the taxpaying public?  Representative Chris Collins (R-NY) had an answer that resonates with the conclusions of our inquiry. He told reporters, “My donors are basically saying ‘get it done or don’t ever call me again.’”

Kay Lehman Schlozman is the J. Joseph Moakley Endowed Professor of Political Science at Boston College. Henry E. Brady is dean of the Goldman School of Public Policy and the Class of 1941 Monroe Deutsch Professor of Political Science and Public Policy at the University of California, Berkeley. Sidney Verba is the Carl H. Pforzheimer University Professor Emeritus and research professor of government at Harvard University.

Theodore Porter on Genetics in the Madhouse

PorterIn the early 1800s, a century before there was any concept of the gene, physicians in insane asylums began to record causes of madness in their admission books. Almost from the beginning, they pointed to heredity as the most important of these causes. As doctors and state officials steadily lost faith in the capacity of asylum care to stem the terrible increase of insanity, they began emphasizing the need to curb the reproduction of the insane. They became obsessed with identifying weak or tainted families and anticipating the outcomes of their marriages. Genetics in the Madhouse is the untold story of how the collection and sorting of hereditary data in mental hospitals, schools for “feebleminded” children, and prisons gave rise to a new science of human heredity. A bold rethinking of asylum work, Genetics in the Madhouse shows how heredity was a human science as well as a medical and biological one.

I can’t help noticing that the title of this book, Genetics in the Madhouse, incorporates a double anachronism.

Well, yes, you’re right about that. Guilty as charged. The book begins in about 1789 which, besides being the year of the French Revolution, coincides pretty closely with a new model of care for the insane. These new institutions were not places of incarceration, but retreats or—the favorite word of the new era—asylums. They were idealized as orderly, restful places in the countryside where patients, laboring quietly, could recover their mental balance. In real life, it was scarcely possible to maintain order and quiet in these hospitals, especially as they grew to hold thousands of patients. The title word “madhouse” evokes the precarious situation of service personnel trying to apply psychological and moral principles to such recalcitrant populations. The most basic point of the book is that routines of record keeping in these disorderly establishments provided an indispensable basis of data for investigation patterns of biological inheritance. Although our word for this study, “genetics,” was first used by the naturalist William Bateson in 1905, biological heredity as a scientific problem had been taking shape for at least a century. Bateson chose to let this new science be defined by Gregor Mendel’s experiments on plant hybridization from the 1860s, which had changed everything, he said. I follow a recent turn of historical research that demonstrates a richer and more diverse tradition of hereditary study. My book emphasizes the key role of data gathering from mental hospitals and related institutions for this science of human heredity.

This is your fourth book with Princeton University Press, all of which have involved history of statistics, calculation, and measurement in the human sciences. Did you write this one to reveal the statistical background to genetics?

In fact, the statistics of heredity was already an important topic of my first book, written in the late 1970s and early 1980s in the context of a very different historiography. Genetics in the Madhouse had its moment of inspiration a decade ago when it occurred to shift my emphasis from ideals of statistical reasoning to the production and deployment of medical and scientific data. Although I at first had no idea of this, data was just emerging as a focus of historical research. The history of data has and obvious connection to history of statistics, but it has, I would suggest, a certain primordial aspect. Statistics presupposes data, whereas there are other strategies besides statistics for reasoning with data. I ended up spending a lot of time in archives trying to figure out the protocol when, as it usually happened, a relative of a prospective patient supplied the medical superintendent of an asylum with information for a line in the hospital admission book. From this point of origin, I could see how unit entries were combined into medical-administrative tables, merged into census statistics, and recombined to get at the relations of different variables. I had supposed until recently that most doctors didn’t care much for statistics, but now I found that many asylum doctors at least took their numbers very seriously. I quickly discovered that what I had thought of as sources of data for statistical analysis were much more than this. The doctors were already deeply engaged in investigating relationship of heredity among the diagnosed insane decades before statisticians like Karl Pearson began asking them for data on heredity.

On this basis, I began the backward phase of my research, trying to establish when and where these tables of inheritance of first arose. One possible source, a very precise one, is the medical inquiries carried out about 1789 by Dr. William Black in response to a furor over the madness of King George III. A better answer would be to link it to the asylum movement and to new standards of record keeping for public institutions.

But do you really think that administrative records could provide the basis for a natural science such as genetics?

Indeed that would be too simple. Quite a lot of the asylum record keeping really was passive and formulaic, but this was never the whole story. Black, who was responding to constitutional crisis, had to track down privately-held data from Bethlem (Bedlam) and assemble new tables giving evidence on the critical question of whether the king was likely to recover. By the 1830s, many asylum doctors understood their role not only in terms of relieving insane persons committed to their institutions, but also of advising the population at large on the preservation of mental health. Their interest in causes of insanity was allied to this public-health mission. Meanwhile, despite all the new asylums, insanity numbers were growing like crazy. It became more and more important to understand causes, especially hereditary ones. By the 1840s, a subset of asylum doctors were taking the study of heredity very seriously. While they depended on administrative records to keep tabs on the presumed causes, they also widened the field of data collection, for example to relative of patients. Insanity, and even its inheritance, became a topic for the national census. The doctors also worked to integrate data from diverse institutions and to track down every insane person in specific parishes in order to unravel the family relationships and reduce them to family trees or pedigrees. So the routine record keeping often went well beyond administrative routines.

Why did they become obsessed with hereditary causation?

In fact, the inheritance of traits and diseases, including of mental illness, was already by 1800 a folk category. If a newly-admitted asylum patient had a sister or uncle who behaved oddly, spoke incoherently, or committed suicide, spouses and children often mentioned this as indicating a hereditary factor. Asylum doctors were in a position to gather up reports like these, and their tables often showed heredity as the most important cause of insanity. To be sure, such numbers depended also on the attitude of the doctor. Still, the numbers provided a basis for stern warnings against marrying into families plagued by hereditary weakness, and these were quite common by the 1840s. The reality of eugenics as a professional medical concern long predated the word.

Didn’t Charles Darwin’s cousin Francis Galton launch the eugenics movement?

Certainly he was a key figure, and ever since 1900, when eugenics became famous, his name has been associated it. But it is unconvincing, and probably even a category mistake, to attribute a professional and popular movement like eugenics to the inspiration of any single individual. As it happens, Galton’s initial obsession with human heredity, and even his early methods for investigating it, owed something to the ideas and practices of asylum doctors. In the 1870s, when he carried out his study of the resemblances of twins, he knew enough to ask asylum directors and the families of patients for pertinent data. And Darwin, an early convert to Galton’s doctrines of inherited ability and weakness, had been worrying for decades about the possibility of hereditary weakness in his own family. He and his son George proposed studies using data from asylums and related institutions to determine if family marriages might bring on inherited weakness.

How long did it take for modern genetics to replace medical and social speculations about inherited weakness once Mendel’s laws at last were noticed in 1900?

The first scientists to take up Mendelian research were botanists. It was quickly incorporated into agricultural research, and there were some real successes by the 1910s, most famously in research on mutations in fruit flies. Quick generation times and the possibility of rigorous experimental control were very important for Mendelian research. Some, such as Bateson, simply assumed that criminality must be controlled by a single gene. The first research on inheritance of insanity and mental weakness was carried out by allies of by Charles B. Davenport, founder of the well-funded Eugenics Record Office at Cold Spring Harbor in New York. He more or less assumed that conditions like these, with no evident bacteriological or environmental causes, must be hereditary, and in a straightforwardly Mendelian way. His data and much of the expertise to deploy it came from professionals at asylums and special schools, and thus was continuous with long-standing traditions of institutional research on heredity. The primary novelty was their strong expectation that Mendel’s characteristic ratios, 3:1 and 1:1, should spring out from breeding results. And that is what they found 

There followed an international wave of Mendelian psychiatry and psychology in Britain, Germany, Switzerland, and Scandinavia as well as North America. At first almost everyone succeeded in getting the results they were looking for, but these were harshly criticized, especially by Pearson and his allies in London. The most serious and expensive Mendelian studies were carried out in Germany, most famously by the Munich psychiatrist Ernst Rüdin in alliance with the doctor and statistician Wilhelm Weinberg. Their results for inheritance of mental illness (dementia praecox) were about six times smaller than they expected. Although they did not give up on Mendelism, they adopted for practical purposes a more empirical approach, measuring how the presence of a trait of interest in the parents affected the characters of the offspring, and ignoring for the time being the presumed genetic factors.

By about 1930, Davenport’s findings on Mendelian inheritance of mental defects had become a scandal. While geneticist continue often to speak loosely of genes for traits like these, and find it impossible to ignore them, there is no prospect of a simple Mendelian explanation of schizophrenia or learning disabilities. Meanwhile, statistical investigations of inheritance of mental and psychological traits go on.

Weren’t eugenic researches on inheritance of mental illness and disabilities discredited by the terrible abuses of the Nazis?

While few these days are willing to own up to eugenic ambitions, eugenics never died. One of the first really terrible crimes of the Nazis was to murder hundreds of thousands of asylum patients. Genetics had some role in the justification and implementation of this policy, though rarely if ever let scientific arguments determine the implementation of policies like these. German research on psychiatric heredity from the Nazi period did not just disappear, but was cited and used for decades by researchers in Britain, Scandinavia, and North America, some of whom despised the medical-eugenic policies of the Nazi state.

Theodore M. Porter is Distinguished Professor of History and holds the Peter Reill Chair at the University of California, Los Angeles. His books include Karl Pearson: The Scientific Life in a Statistical Age, Trust in Numbers: The Pursuit of Objectivity in Science and Public Life, and The Rise of Statistical Thinking, 1820–1900 (all Princeton). He lives in Altadena, California.

Michael Best on How Growth Really Happens

BestAchieving economic growth is one of today’s key challenges. In this groundbreaking book, Michael Best argues that to understand how successful growth happens we need an economic framework that focuses on production, enterprise, and governance. Best makes the case that government should create the institutional infrastructures needed to support these elements and their interconnections rather than subsidize individual enterprises. The power of Best’s alternative framework is illustrated by case studies of transformative experiences previously regarded as economic “miracles”: America’s World War II industrial buildup, Germany’s postwar recovery, Greater Boston’s innovation system, Ireland’s tech-sector boom, and the rise of the Asian Tigers and China.Accessible and engaging, How Growth Really Happens is required reading for anyone who wants to advance today’s crucial debates about industrial policy, free trade, outsourcing, and the future of work. 

Why is the study of economic “miracles” important?

National and regional experiences of rapid growth that lack easy explanations are often casually ascribed to divine intervention. Over two dozen national and regional experiences of rapid growth lacking explanation have been dubbed ‘miracles.’ These ‘miracles’ are unexpected and outside the scope of the conventional policymaking mindset. This book brings several such purported miracles back to earth. It offers an explanation in terms of an economics anchored by fundamental principles of production and business organization. The claim is that we can learn about how capitalist economies function and malfunction from examining cases of rapid and transformative growth. The lesson is that there is no divine intervention, just a man-made conjunction of capabilities.

What does the book do?

The book characterizes the economic policymaking framework and implementation means common to the rapid growth experiences. The framework is informed by a historical genealogy of major economic thinkers that have contributed to an economics of transformative growth. It is an economics of capability development and mutual adjustment processes in which changes in business organization, production system, and skill formation are inextricably bound together. The three domains are not separable and additive components of growth, but mutually interdependent sub-systems of a single developmental process. No one of the three can contribute to growth independently of mutual adjustment processes involving all three. I call this the capability triad. 

What unites the neglected economic theorists that shed light on transformative experiences?

The economic theorists whose ideas are discussed in this book examine the innovation dynamics that underlie productivity growth. They share an alternative economics methodology for understanding how economies function and for informing and conducting policymaking. Each thinker focuses on a different interactive connection in the economy to characterize an innovation dynamic within a multidimensional and complex economy. But taken together the innovation processes have common features and can interact with one another. Strategically organized, they can produce dynamic increasing returns.

These great scholars lived and wrote about the real world, which their descriptions suggest is not amenable to magic bullets. But there is no throwing up of hands in despair and depicting episodes of rapid growth as unexplained and inexplicable. Each contribution does offer, at the minimum, an analytical framework in lieu of a “growth miracle.” These models can protect policymakers from unreflective failures. Together they offer more. Economic policymaking is always informed and defended by models, but no single model can mimic modern complex economies or fit all contexts. The capability triad is a better way to understand how crises can be overcome and robust growth achieved.

How did you come to study economic miracles?

In 1969 when I started teaching economics at the University of Massachusetts, the economic outlook for the region was not encouraging. Between the 1930s and mid-1970s, with the exception of World War II, the New England economy underwent a sustained period of economic decline.  Boston’s population declined from 800,000 in 1950 to 560,000 in 1980.

What occurred next is known as the Massachusetts Miracle. Between 1975 the mid 1980’s unemployment fell from 12% to less than 3% as upwards of a half a million jobs were created most in new sectors. Michael Dukakis, governor of Massachusetts, campaigned for the US presidency in 1988 attributing the ‘miracle’ to the creation of a range of quasi-public agencies. But as a board member of one such agency, I was acutely aware this was not the case. At the same time, it was not a consequence of a spontaneous burst of ‘animal spirits’ or unleashed by laissez-faire policies and free markets.

What role did government policy play in the Massachusetts Miracle?

State policy did not plan, foresee, or drive the Massachusetts Miracle. But it was not passive. The state government funded a huge investment to increase the number of electrical engineering students in public higher education from around 600 in 1976 to over 1600 ten years later. In so doing it turned a transformative potential into a sustained growth experience. These graduates were like a high-octane fuel for an explosive growth in the size and number of engineering intensive enterprises. 

Nevertheless, the Massachusetts Miracle cannot be explained without reference to the institutionalized means by which the US economy was transformed during World War II. State education policy responded to an increase in demand driven by the post-war emergence of a large population of technology-driven enterprises themselves exploiting opportunities created by the federal government’s wartime investment in technologically advanced weapon systems. Greater Boston’s research-intensive universities and the state’s legacy of precision engineering were key components in the design, development, and implementation of the President’s wartime strategic vision and mobilization programs. The federal government oversaw the creation of a national science and technology infrastructure of which Massachusetts was and has remained a major beneficiary.

What can we learn from the US World War II experience about industrial policymaking?

World War II was a period of policymaking experimentation and government intervention much as the Great Depression that preceded it. But while the Great Depression inspired an emerging Keynesian macroeconomic demand management perspective, the successful policy regime of the wartime American economy, namely to create and grow new industries and transform existing industries to meet unprecedented performance targets, did not inspire a new supply side, production development perspective within the economics profession.

In fact, the World War II US policymaking experience was an unparalleled industrial policy success. GDP nearly doubled in a four-year period, far exceeding all other nations. Its unmatched performance can be measured by comparing national rates of expansion in munitions production Over the period from 1935-9 to 1944, munitions output expanded 7 times in Germany; 10 times in the USSR; 15 times in Japan; 22 times in the UK; and 140 times in the US (Goldsmith 1946). Furthermore, the US alone produced guns and butter; guns were not produced at the expense of the civilian standard of living (Edelstein 2001; Overy 1995).

President Roosevelt’s vision to create the Arsenal for Democracy was not enacted by either an invisible hand or by central planning but purposefully by an industrial policy and economic governance agenda that organizationally integrated and diffused rapid technological and production innovation. Three complementary productive structures were pivotal. 

The first was the integration of science and industry to design, develop, produce, and deploy new technologically advanced products (e.g., radar systems, penicillin). The second was the diffusion of mass production principles to build and ramp up new organizationally complex products/plants/industries (e.g., aircraft, ships), and to convert existing factories to new products (e.g., cars to jeeps) and to extend mass production and enterprise output coordination principles throughout and across supply chains. The third was the design, administration, and implementation of a participatory management philosophy and skill formation methodology to foster workforce involvement in job design, quality improvement, and new technology introduction. Each of these productive structures is examined using case studies that take us inside the real-world economics of production, business, work, universities, and industrial organization to examine how US industrial policy transformed the nation’s industrial innovation system.

What unites the policy frameworks of the successful transformative growth experiences examined in the book?

Explosive growth experiences are many. I apply the Capability Triad framework to explain other success stories including West Germany, Ireland’s Celtic Tiger, Japan and China as well as policy framework failure in the UK, Italy and the US in recent decades.

We know that they are not explained by stabilization policy. No amount of adjustment of stabilization and market reform policies are sufficient to address matters of productivity and growth. We find in the success stories the crafting and implementation of strategic development policy frameworks. This takes us beyond the terrain of the economics equilibrium and optimal resource allocation, although economics is critical to it. But it is an economics of capability development and mutual adjustment processes in which changes in business organization, production system, and skill formation are inextricably bound together.

This does not mean that macro policy instruments are irrelevant; it means that the transformative experiences are better understood as capability informed macro policies. The idea is to characterize successful economic policies from an organizational capabilities perspective.

In the success stories we find a unified or coordinated set of extra-enterprise, capability-development infrastructures that galvanize a population of companies to engage in product development and technology management capabilities; we find macro-policymaking guided by a production-centric awareness of where a region or country fits within the global competitive environment and the use of the critical barrier analysis to inform infrastructural investment priorities. These can include access to a machine tool industry, engineering support services, development finance and skill formation institutions which, if inter-connected, enable a whole group of firms to innovate and grow without generating severe skill gaps and thereby curtailing progress.    

Why is the formulation of a conceptual policy framework important?

The historical experiences described in this book tell us that a development policy framework is important for success. The case studies reveal extraordinary leaders responding to daunting challenges by crafting appropriate strategic policy frameworks at both enterprise and government levels. At the same time, luck plays a large part in successful outcomes. The expected external conditions needed to support success do not always arrive conveniently, and their absence may frustrate otherwise admirable policy initiatives. Nor is the true significance of the internal elements of a strategy always fully understood even by its own designers. But luck and chance, however random, can be handled best within well-thought-out and coherent frameworks that take full account of the nature of the external environment (opportunities and threats), as well as realistic views of domestic capabilities (strengths and weaknesses). What we can add, as well, is that the resulting SWOT (strengths, weaknesses, opportunities, and threats) analysis can be much richer if it is guided by the alternative economic baseline of the capabilities and innovation perspective and of the dynamic growth processes that it illuminates.

Perhaps the most daunting aspect of the capability triad is that it treats the scope for public policy as being almost completely and seamlessly blended into the detailed mechanics of change that occur within private firms. In this framework, public policy and private entrepreneurial actions do not operate in isolation from each other but become mutually reinforcing. There is some scope for a separable public policy, such as in skill formation, to ensure that the right mix of education and skills is produced to accommodate the changing demands of the economy as it develops. But even here, the links between public and private activity are crucial.

In the quest to break free from narrow, dependent, and reactive policy mindsets, the capability triad framework proposed here does not provide all the answers. But it helps those who hope to fashion transformative policies to be smart when time is pressing and when financial and human resources are limited. Such policies are essential if we wish to bring focus and synergy to the disparate policies that make up a broad enterprise-development strategy in a national, provincial, or local economy.

What is the relationship between conceptual framework and policy success?

Conceptual frameworks and policy design, implementation, and renewal usually evolve in parallel with each other. Frameworks are rather like maps that tell you where you are, where you need to go, and the direction that you must take to get there. Policy design and implementation deal with the messy business of gathering resources, making pragmatic choices, overcoming obstacles, and bringing the team along to a collective goal. To confuse these separate but interrelated elements of strategy, or to emphasize one at the expense of the other, will almost certainly lead to failure. Having a wonderful map, but of a route that would take you over impassable terrain, is useless. Wandering aimlessly in the wilderness bereft of any maps is equally futile.

Fortunately, the capability triad is not like the weatherman! It can offer diagnoses, and  even contingent predictions, and it can also suggest ways forward. The country case studies examined in this book suggest that the logic of the capability triad, based as it is on a distillation of actual experience, provides both structure and content to strategy design. To neglect its lessons, and to focus on price competition and stabilization processes as advocated in standard economics, has condemned national and regional economies to stagnation and decline and to all the social problems that such failures propagate.

What about research methodology in economics?

The economics advanced by a review of the historical experiences of rapid growth and decline in this book do not advance a policy framework with the clarity or certainty of the market fundamentalist or even Keynesian perspectives. Together they tell us that economies are inherently complex and not reducible to mechanical relationships. The methodological argument is that an alternative paradigm, beginning with case studies and empirical research rather than formal models grounded in a priori principles, is a more fruitful approach to understanding real-world economies and guiding policy. This is the position taken by all the thinkers in the production-centric paradigm.

Why have Nobel prizes overwhelmingly gone to the economics of optimal resource allocation? Part of the answer is that it is a comprehensive, context-free theory of individual rationality tractable to elegant simplification. Capabilities do not fit; they are about activities that cannot be done alone or at once.

My book goes the route of a different research methodology of which Darwin is the most prominent. This is systemic observation in which one searches for general principles, applies them to more experiences and in the process subjects them to tests. Not a complete answer but we start with what goes on inside the business enterprise because it is here that innovation and value creation either take place or do not take place. My book links Edith Penrose’s capabilities theory of the growth of the firm with Charles Babbage’s principles of production and Darwin’s evolutionary principles of variation, descent with adaptation and population dynamics. All three operate within the systemic observation methodology that distinguishes the production-centric economics perspective. 

Michael H. Best is professor emeritus of economics at the University of Massachusetts, Lowell, where he was codirector of the Center for Industrial Competitiveness. He has held numerous academic fellowships and participated in development projects with the United Nations, the World Bank, and governments in more than twenty countries. He is the author of The New Competition: Institutions of Industrial Restructuring and The New Competitive Advantage: The Renewal of American Industry.

Konrad H. Jarausch on Broken Lives

LivesBroken Lives is a gripping account of the twentieth century as seen through the eyes of ordinary Germans who came of age under Hitler and whose lives were scarred and sometimes destroyed by what they saw and did. Konrad Jarausch argues that this generation’s focus on its own suffering, often maligned by historians, ultimately led to a more critical understanding of national identity—one that helped transform Germany from a military aggressor into a pillar of European democracy. The result is a powerful account of the everyday experiences and troubling memories of average Germans who journeyed into, through, and out of the abyss of a dark century.

Broken Lives is a response to an Amazon customer review which called my synthesis of 20th century Europe Out of Ashes “interesting and worthwhile, but in the end unsatisfying.” In that previous volume I had attempted to interpret the development of the old continent as a struggle between Communist, Fascist, and Democratic modernities. Using the pseudonym “Spinoza,” the reader criticized: “Working from this narrative angle, from what you would really experience on the streets of these German cities as you walked around (what, in a word, Hitler would have experienced as he walked around as a teenager a decade or so later), would be far more powerful, and effective, in understanding the why of the 20th century than some ab­stract concept as modernism.” Since he was, in effect, calling for a history from below, I decided to rise to this challenge, albeit limited to a single country which I know best, namely Germany.

In order to reconstruct the experiences of ordinary Germans, I turned to the fascinating stories of Nazi repression, wartime suffering and post-war privation with which I grew up in a defeated and divided country. While some adults were unable to talk about what they had done or witnessed, many others were all too willing to unburden themselves. As an adolescent I had little patience with the endless tales of family members killed, possessions lost, flight and expulsion from home, and struggles to resume a normal life, because I wanted to escape the physical rubble and mental disorientation into a better future. But in retrospect I understood that these shared narratives constituted an archive of popular memories that had largely been ignored by academic historians because such accounts focused on German suffering rather than on the pain of racial and national victims of Nazi genocide and aggression.

With the passing away of the war-time generation, I realized that these stories were going to disappear unless they were preserved in written form as autobiographies. My search for such ego-texts was surprisingly successful, turning up over eighty untutored memoirs of people who were born in the Weimar Republic and put their experiences on paper in retirement at the end of the twentieth century. Many of the narratives, such as the nine volumes by the composer Gerhard Krapf, were in manuscript form as well as in private possession, reaching me through personal contacts. Others, such as the life-story of the Rhine River captain Hermann Debus were printed privately, appearing in little publishing houses below the radar of academic reviews or university libraries. Others yet, such as the amazing account of the Jewish historian and personal friend Werner “Tom” Angress were printed by reputable publishers. Surprisingly enough, the surviving authors and their descendants were eager to have their stories shared with a wider public.

As an ensemble, these popular memoirs constitute a set of private memories, largely absent from accounts of public memory culture. Quite a few scholars have analyzed the contentious development of an official memory culture that has become self-critical and contrite about the Nazi crimes and the complicity of the majority of the population. But this unofficial layer of recollections, below public protestations of guilt, has been largely neglected, since it is focused on German suffering, thereby initiating a competition of victimhood in which Germans also claim to have experienced terror and pain. This discrepancy has always fascinated me, since both the stress on critical public memory and the emphasis on apologetic private recollection seem to have a point, posing the question of how these contrary positions relate to each other. Hence I wanted to explore how later self-representations dealt with earlier Nazi complicity.

While working on a wide range of popular autobiographies, I was surprised to see that in a process of decades-long reflection many of the authors had become critical of their previous selves. For instance, Leonore Walb, on rereading her girlish Third Reich diary was so shocked by her adolescent enthusiasm for the Hitler Youth that she required psychiatric help in order to reconcile her later anti-Fascism with her earlier self. While this was, no doubt, an extreme case, other authors like Dieter Schoenhals wrote not just to convey family history to their off­spring but also in order to impart a timeless lesson to the public. Even if many remained reticent about their own reluctance to help Jewish acquaintances or Slavic slave laborers, virtu­ally all of them condemned the war and the dictatorship, seeking to make sure that such horrors would not recur. Encouraged by the reflective speech of President Richard von Weizsäcker in 1985, the official critical and private apologetic memories have gradually grown somewhat closer to each other.

Weaving the many diverse life-stories together into an over-all tapestry of experiences made me appreciate the human dimension of the descent into the Third Reich and the subsequent recovery. This shocking trajectory of a purportedly civilized nation was propelled by many small individual decisions which collectively gathered such enormous force that they shattered entire countries and people in Europe. It has not been appreciated sufficiently that the Nazi complicity broke millions of lives, not just among their political, racial, and ethnic victims, but also among their Aryan and German supporters. Far from apologizing for such misdeeds, I want to explain the youthful attraction of the NS dictatorship as well as the subsequent adult understanding of its terrible consequences. It is this crucial nexus between perpetration and suffering that charac­terizes German stories of the twentieth century—including that of my own family.

Konrad H. Jarausch is the Lurcy Professor of European Civilization at the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill. His many books include Out of Ashes: A New History of Europe in the Twentieth Century and Reluctant Accomplice: A Wehrmacht Soldier’s Letters from the Eastern Front. He lives in Chapel Hill and Berlin.

Brian O’Connor on Idleness: A Philosophical Essay

idleFor millennia, idleness and laziness have been regarded as vices. We’re all expected to work to survive and get ahead, and devoting energy to anything but labor and self-improvement can seem like a luxury or a moral failure. Far from questioning this conventional wisdom, modern philosophers have worked hard to develop new reasons to denigrate idleness. In Idleness, the first book to challenge modern philosophy’s portrayal of inactivity, Brian O’Connor argues that the case against an indifference to work and effort is flawed—and that idle aimlessness may instead allow for the highest form of freedom. A thought-provoking reconsideration of productivity for the twenty-first century, Idleness shows that, from now on, no theory of what it means to have a free mind can exclude idleness from the conversation.

Could we start by asking you to tell us what you mean by idleness? Which sense of the word is important for your book?

Yes—that’s really key to appreciating what I’m interested in exploring. I actually don’t mean anything that’s at all obscure. The sense of idleness at the center of the book is that of doing little or nothing that’s considered productive, of feeling free of the pressures of caring about what one is supposed to make of oneself. An idle person is not pinned down by any plan that shapes their future. It’s a kind of way of being that, in the context of life today, amounts to a disavowal of those inclinations that make us into effective social agents, like being useful, busy, or competitive.

What gave you the idea of writing a book on philosophical criticisms of idleness?

Many years ago I was struck by Kant’s claim that no rational being—that is to say, a properly functioning moral person—would ever believe it proper to live according to the rule of idleness. This was no throwaway remark. It was backed up by some quite complex reasoning. Nevertheless, I found myself completely unimpressed by his position. What Kant was trying to convince us of in that claim just didn’t resonate with me personally. I noticed a number of other philosophers from around and soon after Kant’s time devising their own original ways of denigrating idleness. Eventually, I thought it was time to react. The book is my effort to expose the problems and assumptions within those philosophies which tell us that idleness is an unworthy way of life.

Why did you feel motivated to react with that critical attitude?

There’s a philosophical interest in identifying and exposing arguments that seem to serve as apologies or defenses of some kind of the basic practices of life in the modern world. I just happen to be drawn to the longstanding practice of unsettling philosophy’s complicity with the troubling and often destructive burdens social structures place on human beings.

But there’s also a sense that lives pursued through an obsession with reputational and material advance bring a significant amount of harm to our world. We seem to be driven to see a large part of who we are in terms of how much we can accomplish. It’s a precarious and anxious way to live. Although I don’t develop that point in the book, it’s held in mind throughout.

Does your book argue, then, that we need to work less and do more to enjoy our free time?

No. I make no positive proposals for any alternative lifestyle. The philosopher as guru is not a happy spectacle. What I do try to do—and different lessons might be drawn from this—is show that some of the most ingenious arguments against idleness developed by some exceptionally influential philosophers turn out to be justifications of our anxious world. What’s more broadly intriguing about those arguments is that they express sentiments that have become increasingly common outside philosophy. At the core of them is this idea, that a life worth living is one of effort and recognized achievement. If we can successfully criticize that idea perhaps it contributes in some small way to reflection on the power it ought to hold over us.

You mentioned that you look at particular philosophers opposed to idleness. Which ones and why?

I’ve already noted Kant’s austere perspective. And added to his formal argument are quite a few condescending dismissals of lives that seem to be quite free of any effort to achieve social worth, in Kant’s sense of that idea. There’s a similar move found in Hegel who values the process of turning us into autonomous self-perpetuating workers. As we work we serve a system whose power over us Hegel doesn’t find troubling. He too sees nothing impressive in cultures that seem to survive quite happily in near idleness. And then there’s Marx who famously designs a picture of utopian co-operation in which the fullest freedom and self-realization might be found in even the most arduous forms of labor. He has no interest in the kinds of freedom that might be enjoyed in the absence of labor.

Your book also looks at the question of boredom. How does that fit with the topic of idleness?

It’s virtually inevitable to experience boredom when we have nothing to do. And when we reflect for a moment on that experience we might want to conclude that idleness, as a state of doing nothing in particular, could actually be a cause of boredom. If so, then what’s the point in trying to rescue idleness from its hostile characterizations? The most ambitious philosophical expression of a deep connection between boredom and idleness is found in Schopenhauer. I raise questions about whether Schopenhauer mistakes our socialization for facts of nature. He’s certainly no advocate of the modern world, yet he doesn’t quite see the degree to which the experiences he describes are peculiar to that world.

A more difficult question is posed when looking at de Beauvoir’s notion of the idle woman. She compellingly outlines the circumstances which, in her time, encouraged women to invest little in developing skills and to dream instead of idleness. But the reality was often lives crushed by boredom since the group she describes had only really been encouraged to develop what would turn out to be an impaired ability to keep themselves occupied.

Bertrand Russell praised idleness and noted that human beings have forgotten how to play. Do you think the idea of play is close to what you mean by idleness?

Yes it is. I give quite a lot of space to exploring two major theories of how play might be considered as an alternative to the grueling processes of ceaseless industry and the discipline it imposes on us. I’m quite sympathetic to those theories—they belong to Schiller and Marcuse. Play means living without seriousness, with a readiness to respond rather than impose, an openness rather than a strictness about what one might do next. I do tease out some of the difficulties in the formulations of those theories while trying to keep their importance as sources of resistance to the anti-idlers firmly in view.

In reply to some of these questions “freedom” seems to be a significant feature of idleness. How does that sense of freedom compare with senses more familiar from moral and political theory?

At first it looks like idle freedom belongs to some space that’s beneath any kind of philosophical interest. That, at least, is what some of the philosophers I examine would like us to believe. I try to show that idle freedom—a positive experience of freedom from social expectation, and indifference to life plans and so on—may actually come closer to what we expect freedom to be than the very influential yet often philosophically artificial idea of autonomy. Too often autonomy—supposedly the highest freedom—has been tied to social participation under the conditions of the modern world. It also frankly endorses the idea that freedom can be a burden, but that’s just how it is. I hope some of the ideas I’ve conveyed in this Q&A will give you a sense of why those features of autonomy at least—core features—seem less defensible than the notion of idle freedom in terms of their respective appreciation of what ordinarily matters about freedom.

Brian O’Connor is professor of philosophy at University College Dublin. He is the author of Adorno and Adorno’s Negative Dialectic.