Peter Ungar: It’s not that your teeth are too big: your jaw is too small

We hold in our mouths the legacy of our evolution. We rarely consider just how amazing our teeth are. They break food without themselves being broken, up to millions of times over the course of a lifetime; and they do it built from the very same raw materials as the foods they are breaking. Nature is truly an inspired engineer.

But our teeth are, at the same time, really messed up. Think about it. Do you have impacted wisdom teeth? Are your lower front teeth crooked or out of line? Do your uppers jut out over your lowers? Nearly all of us have to say ‘yes’ to at least one of these questions, unless we’ve had dental work. It’s as if our teeth are too big to fit properly in our jaws, and there isn’t enough room in the back or front for them all. It just doesn’t make sense that such an otherwise well-designed system would be so ill-fitting.

Other animals tend to have perfectly aligned teeth. Our distant hominin ancestors did too; and so do the few remaining peoples today who live a traditional hunting and gathering lifestyle. I am a dental anthropologist at the University of Arkansas, and I work with the Hadza foragers of Africa’s great rift valley in Tanzania. The first thing you notice when you look into a Hadza mouth is that they’ve got a lot of teeth. Most have 20 back teeth, whereas the rest of us tend to have 16 erupted and working. Hadza also typically have a tip-to-tip bite between the upper and lower front teeth; and the edges of their lowers align to form a perfect, flawless arch. In other words, the sizes of Hadza teeth and jaws match perfectly. The same goes for our fossil forebears and for our nearest living relatives, the monkeys and apes.

So why don’t our teeth fit properly in the jaw? The short answer is not that our teeth are too large, but that our jaws are too small to fit them in. Let me explain. Human teeth are covered with a hard cap of enamel that forms from the inside out. The cells that make the cap move outward toward the eventual surface as the tooth forms, leaving a trail of enamel behind. If you’ve ever wondered why your teeth can’t grow or repair themselves when they break or develop cavities, it’s because the cells that make enamel die and are shed when a tooth erupts. So the sizes and shapes of our teeth are genetically pre-programmed. They cannot change in response to conditions in the mouth.

But the jaw is a different story. Its size depends both on genetics and environment; and it grows longer with heavy use, particularly during childhood, because of the way bone responds to stress. The evolutionary biologist Daniel Lieberman at Harvard University conducted an elegant study in 2004 on hyraxes fed soft, cooked foods and tough, raw foods. Higher chewing strains resulted in more growth in the bone that anchors the teeth. He showed that the ultimate length of a jaw depends on the stress put on it during chewing.

Selection for jaw length is based on the growth expected, given a hard or tough diet. In this way, diet determines how well jaw length matches tooth size. It is a fine balancing act, and our species has had 200,000 years to get it right. The problem for us is that, for most of that time, our ancestors didn’t feed their children the kind of mush we feed ours today. Our teeth don’t fit because they evolved instead to match the longer jaw that would develop in a more challenging strain environment. Ours are too short because we don’t give them the workout nature expects us to.

There’s plenty of evidence for this. The dental anthropologist Robert Corruccini at Southern Illinois University has seen the effects by comparing urban dwellers and rural peoples in and around the city of Chandigarh in north India – soft breads and mashed lentils on the one hand, coarse millet and tough vegetables on the other. He has also seen it from one generation to the next in the Pima peoples of Arizona, following the opening of a commercial food-processing facility on the reservation. Diet makes a huge difference. I remember asking my wife not to cut our daughters’ meat into such small pieces when they were young. ‘Let them chew,’ I begged. She replied that she’d rather pay for braces than have them choke. I lost that argument.

Crowded, crooked, misaligned and impacted teeth are huge problems that have clear aesthetic consequences, but can also affect chewing and lead to decay. Half us could benefit from orthodontic treatment. Those treatments often involve pulling out or carving down teeth to match tooth row with jaw length. But does this approach really make sense from an evolutionary perspective? Some clinicians think not. And one of my colleagues at Arkansas, the bioarchaeologist Jerry Rose, has joined forces with the local orthodontist Richard Roblee with this very question in mind. Their recommendation? That clinicians should focus more on growing jaws, especially for children. For adults, surgical options for stimulating bone growth are gaining momentum, too, and can lead to shorter treatment times.

As a final thought, tooth crowding isn’t the only problem that comes from a shorter jaw. Sleep apnea is another. A smaller mouth means less space for the tongue, so it can fall back more easily into the throat during sleep, potentially blocking the airway. It should come as no surprise that appliances and even surgery to pull the jaw forward are gaining traction in treating obstructive sleep apnea.

For better and for worse, we hold in our mouths the legacy of our evolution. We might be stuck with an oral environment that our ancestors never had to contend with, but recognising this can help us deal with it in better ways. Think about that the next time you smile and look in a mirror.

Evolution’s Bite: A Story of Teeth, Diet, and Human Origins by Peter Ungar is out now through Princeton University Press.Aeon counter – do not remove

UngarPeter S. Ungar is Distinguished Professor and director of the Environmental Dynamics Program at the University of Arkansas. He is the author of Evolution’s Bite: A Story of Teeth, Diet, and Human Origins, Teeth: A Very Short Introduction and Mammal Teeth: Origin, Evolution, and Diversity and the editor of Evolution of the Human Diet: The Known, the Unknown, and the Unknowable. He lives in Fayetteville, Arkansas.

This article was originally published at Aeon and has been republished under Creative Commons.

Elizabeth Currid-Halkett: Conspicuous consumption is over. It’s all about intangibles now

In 1899, the economist Thorstein Veblen observed that silver spoons and corsets were markers of elite social position. In Veblen’s now famous treatise The Theory of the Leisure Class, he coined the phrase ‘conspicuous consumption’ to denote the way that material objects were paraded as indicators of social position and status. More than 100 years later, conspicuous consumption is still part of the contemporary capitalist landscape, and yet today, luxury goods are significantly more accessible than in Veblen’s time. This deluge of accessible luxury is a function of the mass-production economy of the 20th century, the outsourcing of production to China, and the cultivation of emerging markets where labour and materials are cheap. At the same time, we’ve seen the arrival of a middle-class consumer market that demands more material goods at cheaper price points.

However, the democratisation of consumer goods has made them far less useful as a means of displaying status. In the face of rising social inequality, both the rich and the middle classes own fancy TVs and nice handbags. They both lease SUVs, take airplanes, and go on cruises. On the surface, the ostensible consumer objects favoured by these two groups no longer reside in two completely different universes.

Given that everyone can now buy designer handbags and new cars, the rich have taken to using much more tacit signifiers of their social position. Yes, oligarchs and the superrich still show off their wealth with yachts and Bentleys and gated mansions. But the dramatic changes in elite spending are driven by a well-to-do, educated elite, or what I call the ‘aspirational class’. This new elite cements its status through prizing knowledge and building cultural capital, not to mention the spending habits that go with it – preferring to spend on services, education and human-capital investments over purely material goods. These new status behaviours are what I call ‘inconspicuous consumption’. None of the consumer choices that the term covers are inherently obvious or ostensibly material but they are, without question, exclusionary.

The rise of the aspirational class and its consumer habits is perhaps most salient in the United States. The US Consumer Expenditure Survey data reveals that, since 2007, the country’s top 1 per cent (people earning upwards of $300,000 per year) are spending significantly less on material goods, while middle-income groups (earning approximately $70,000 per year) are spending the same, and their trend is upward. Eschewing an overt materialism, the rich are investing significantly more in education, retirement and health – all of which are immaterial, yet cost many times more than any handbag a middle-income consumer might buy. The top 1 per cent now devote the greatest share of their expenditures to inconspicuous consumption, with education forming a significant portion of this spend (accounting for almost 6 per cent of top 1 per cent household expenditures, compared with just over 1 per cent of middle-income spending). In fact, top 1 per cent spending on education has increased 3.5 times since 1996, while middle-income spending on education has remained flat over the same time period.

The vast chasm between middle-income and top 1 per cent spending on education in the US is particularly concerning because, unlike material goods, education has become more and more expensive in recent decades. Thus, there is a greater need to devote financial resources to education to be able to afford it at all. According to Consumer Expenditure Survey data from 2003-2013, the price of college tuition increased 80 per cent, while the cost of women’s apparel increased by just 6 per cent over the same period. Middle-class lack of investment in education doesn’t suggest a lack of prioritising as much as it reveals that, for those in the 40th-60th quintiles, education is so cost-prohibitive it’s almost not worth trying to save for.

While much inconspicuous consumption is extremely expensive, it shows itself through less expensive but equally pronounced signalling – from reading The Economist to buying pasture-raised eggs. Inconspicuous consumption in other words, has become a shorthand through which the new elite signal their cultural capital to one another. In lockstep with the invoice for private preschool comes the knowledge that one should pack the lunchbox with quinoa crackers and organic fruit. One might think these culinary practices are a commonplace example of modern-day motherhood, but one only needs to step outside the upper-middle-class bubbles of the coastal cities of the US to observe very different lunch-bag norms, consisting of processed snacks and practically no fruit. Similarly, while time in Los Angeles, San Francisco and New York City might make one think that every American mother breastfeeds her child for a year, national statistics report that only 27 per cent of mothers fulfill this American Academy of Pediatrics goal (in Alabama, that figure hovers at 11 per cent).

Knowing these seemingly inexpensive social norms is itself a rite of passage into today’s aspirational class. And that rite is far from costless: The Economist subscription might set one back only $100, but the awareness to subscribe and be seen with it tucked in one’s bag is likely the iterative result of spending time in elite social milieus and expensive educational institutions that prize this publication and discuss its contents.

Perhaps most importantly, the new investment in inconspicuous consumption reproduces privilege in a way that previous conspicuous consumption could not. Knowing which New Yorker articles to reference or what small talk to engage in at the local farmers’ market enables and displays the acquisition of cultural capital, thereby providing entry into social networks that, in turn, help to pave the way to elite jobs, key social and professional contacts, and private schools. In short, inconspicuous consumption confers social mobility.

More profoundly, investment in education, healthcare and retirement has a notable impact on consumers’ quality of life, and also on the future life chances of the next generation. Today’s inconspicuous consumption is a far more pernicious form of status spending than the conspicuous consumption of Veblen’s time. Inconspicuous consumption – whether breastfeeding or education – is a means to a better quality of life and improved social mobility for one’s own children, whereas conspicuous consumption is merely an end in itself – simply ostentation. For today’s aspirational class, inconspicuous consumption choices secure and preserve social status, even if they do not necessarily display it.Aeon counter – do not remove

Elizabeth Currid-Halkett is the James Irvine Chair in Urban and Regional Planning and professor of public policy at the Price School, University of Southern California. Her latest book is The Sum of Small Things: A Theory of the Aspirational Class (2017). She lives in Los Angeles.

This article was originally published at Aeon and has been republished under Creative Commons.

An author’s guide to social media

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Book promotion has changed a great deal over the past few years with the disappearance of book review sections and the explosion of new media. The rapidly expanding world of social media offers a creative, personal opportunity to promote your book and your personal brand directly to a targeted community of followers. Of course, not every author heads into her pub date with active social media accounts and a substantial online following. Not to worry. Though anyone can use it, social media isn’t for everyone, and you shouldn’t feel under any obligation to participate. But if your forthcoming book has you feeling a bit more like sharing than usual, there are some basic ground rules for cultivating communities, as well as some ways you can collaborate with your publisher.

At Princeton University Press, we use a variety of social media platforms to promote your book, but primarily the PUP blog, Twitter, Facebook, (and soon, Instagram). Here is a general overview of what we can do for your book on each of these, and some tips about what you can do on your own time.

Blog

CC image courtesy of Mathias Rosenthal on ShutterstockThe PUP blog has grown in recent years from a place to share Press news and updates to a sophisticated online publication that runs daily features: regular author interviews, essays from staff, exclusive slide shows, and opinion pieces by our authors. Many of our authors are leaders in their fields, and PUP blog pieces have been widely cross posted or linked by outlets like the Washington Post’s Monkey Cage blog, The Atlantic, Newsweek, History News Network, Marginal Revolution, The Daily Nous, The Leiter Reports, Bloomberg View, and more. In addition, we have recently launched a partnership with the widely read Arts and Ideas magazine, Aeon, which gives authors the opportunity to write short opinion pieces that will appear simultaneously on the Aeon PUP partnership page and the PUP blog. Read more about the Aeon/PUP blog partnership here.

You and the PUP blog: Better together!

Your book is finished, but if you still have more to say, you’re in luck. At PUP, the Social Media Manager works with the editors and publicists to identify potential PUP blog contributions and schedule them to coincide with news hooks, anniversaries, pub dates, and special series. If you are interested in contributing, contact PUP’s Social Media Manager, Debra Liese, for guidelines and assistance with developing your piece. Your piece should allow you to showcase your area of expertise, and if it’s an ‘opinion’ piece, should feature a strong argument. Publishing through the PUP blog is a great way to test out your blogging voice, and the pieces you write can  be cross-posted to your own blog, posted by your university’s communications department, or even picked up by other venues. We generally allow cross posts of the pieces we publish with proper attribution and a link back to the original at the top of the post. (For more information on our reuse policy, which will be officially posted shortly, contact the Social Media Manager).

How do we promote your post? We receive an average of 25k unique visitors to our PUP blog a month, and that number is quickly growing. In addition, your posts to the blog will be pushed out over PUP Facebook and Twitter, and to targeted groups.

Facebook
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What does PUP do? We use Facebook to promote PUP books, push out our authors’ posts on the PUP blog, promote links to their op eds, interviews, and special events. We announce major awards and promote special giveaways.

What can you do on your own? First, we suggest you set up an author page rather than a book page. A Facebook author page is a wonderful way to promote your professional work overall. By comparison, a ‘book page’ appears too much like static advertising, and gets little engagement or organic reach on Facebook. People are more likely to follow a person than a product, and an author page has the added benefit of letting you build your following with each subsequent book you publish, rather than starting from scratch with each book.

Getting started

* Whether you create a professional presence that is distinct from your personal profile is up to you, but many authors like to have a combined page. Worried about mixing public with personal? You’re not alone. Facebook allows users to select who can view each post, meaning you can tailor personal posts for close friends, and put up promotional information globally. Facebook has a Follow feature, allowing people to subscribe to your public updates without “friending” you.

* When you set up your author page, use a professional profile photo and your book jacket at the banner. You should include professional details on your profile including professional affiliation and book title. Think of this as cultivating your personal brand.

* Like all social media, Facebook works best when approached interactively. Your Facebook followers are a community you can personally nurture through regular posts and engagement. You may wish to share coverage your book has received, post announcements to your wall, and engage with comments. You can even use polls, write about current events hooks, and advertise your own special appearances.

* Limit yourself to no more than 5 posts in a week. Always best to leave them wanting more.

* Avoid seeming too self promotional by balancing posts about your book with posts relevant to your field — you can share links to news stories that tie to your research, and stimulate discussion around them. Make sure to like comments, and interact with some of the professional posts of others in your community. Engagement is important on Facebook, and people don’t like to feel that they are following an ad. Show your human side.

* A strong opinion is ok, but offensive language is not. And give credit where credit is due — proper attribution is key on the internet.

Twitter

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What does PUP do? We use our Twitter presence to connect with book lovers, academics, students, authors, booksellers and readers all over the world. We share articles by our authors in high-profile publications, promotional videos and podcasts, author events, special contests, and all original content from the PUP blog.

In addition to our central @PrincetonUPress Twitter feed, we have a feed dedicated to our Natural history community, @PrincetonNature

What can you do on your own?  Twitter can be an effective vehicle for authors. You can quickly share links, support others’ work, or tweet news about an upcoming event. Starting an account is a very straightforward process.

Getting started

* Choose an appropriate username and handle. Use your real name, and avoid obscure handles like @starsearcherphysicist, since that will make it harder for users to search for you.

* Follow people you know who support your work, or locate followers using the ‘find people’ search function. You can search for specific keywords to find people in your discipline.

* Limit yourself to 4 or 5 tweets a day. Over-tweeting can turn off even the most dedicated followers.

* Don’t forget to retweet others whose work you find interesting, and engage with your followers. Twitter is most successful when you take time to cultivate a community and have conversations. If you’re lucky, others will reciprocate.

* When they do, tweeting ‘thanks’ is gracious, but don’t overdo it. If an article is getting a lot of traction, there is no need to retweet every mention and clutter everyone’s feed. Choose select tweets to share, and if you want to acknowledge the others, that’s what ‘favoriting’ is for.

* Adding hashtags (#) to your posts will make them searchable by popular categories, though it’s best to use tags related to your topic rather than creating a hashtag specific to your book. A general, subject-specific hashtag will help your tweets to come up more in searches. You can also tag other accounts (include someone’s username in a tweet if you would like them to see it).

* Be mindful not to use offensive language and always cite your sources—you can use the ‘H/T’(hat tip) or tag your source.

* Expect to be unfollowed by many regardless of how tastefully you use Twitter. And don’t expect everyone you follow to follow you back. They simply won’t.

* Follow PUP. We maintain a list of our authors on Twitter so that we can take note of what you’re tweeting and support your efforts when appropriate. If you’d like to make sure we see a certain tweet, make sure to tag us. You might want to support fellow authors as a way to build your own community.

Instagram

Is your work visual in nature? Our robust art, architecture, urbanism, and natural history lists in particular lend themselves to Instagram, and the Press is in the process of launching a presence here. Instagram is the fastest growing social media platform, so consider opening an account if your work can be expressed visually via photos or short videos. You can use the search function to find and follow other relevant accounts, and add popular hashtags to land your photos in one of the popular “hubs”. You might use a Hub Directory to peruse some of the possibilities. If you want to get the attention of a specific account, tag them in the comments section of your post.

If you’d like additional guidance on social media, don’t hesitate to reach out to PUP’s social media manager for tips on using the platforms or getting involved with the PUP blog. If you decide to try social media, take it one step at a time, and have fun. While there are general guidelines to keep in mind, social media is a place where you can bring your own unique personality and expertise to bear. Cultivating a supportive professional community takes time, but the benefits will be yours for years to come.

 

Announcing a new partnership with Aeon Magazine

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Princeton University Press is excited to announce a new partnership with Aeon Magazine. Since September 2012, Aeon has “been publishing some of the most profound and provocative thinking on the web. It asks the biggest questions and finds the freshest, most original answers, provided by world-leading authorities on science, philosophy and society.” Aeon’s publishing platform is an excellent place for showcasing our authors’ thought leadership. When one of their articles takes off, it does so in style: Robert Epstein’s recent essay about why the brain is not a computer received over 375,000 views in just 4 days. In addition Aeon viewing statistics are counted by Altmetric, so they contribute to any measurement of academic impact.

Starting this June, Princeton University Press authors, past and present, will be contributing regular essays to Aeon’s Ideas section, and participating in various discussions that will be featured on a new, dedicated partnership page that features PUP authors and their work. We will be simultaneously featuring these essays on the PUP blog – a growing outlet for intellectual discourse. Check out the inaugural essays in this partnership by philosopher Jason Stanley and political scientist Justin Smith here. We hope you’ll follow us on Aeon.

–Debra Liese, PUP Social Media Manager & blog editor

Justin E. H. Smith: How philosophy came to disdain the wisdom of oral cultures

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This piece appears simultaneously at Aeon Magazine. Check out our partnership page with Aeon here.

Smith jacketA poet, somewhere in Siberia, or the Balkans, or West Africa, some time in the past 60,000 years, recites thousands of memorised lines in the course of an evening. The lines are packed with fixed epithets and clichés. The bard is not concerned with originality, but with intonation and delivery: he or she is perfectly attuned to the circumstances of the day, and to the mood and expectations of his or her listeners.

If this were happening 6,000-plus years ago, the poet’s words would in no way have been anchored in visible signs, in text. For the vast majority of the time that human beings have been on Earth, words have had no worldly reality other than the sound made when they are spoken.

As the theorist Walter J Ong pointed out in Orality and Literacy: Technologizing the Word (1982), it is difficult, perhaps even impossible, now to imagine how differently language would have been experienced in a culture of ‘primary orality’. There would be nowhere to ‘look up a word’, no authoritative source telling us the shape the word ‘actually’ takes. There would be no way to affirm the word’s existence at all except by speaking it – and this necessary condition of survival is important for understanding the relatively repetitive nature of epic poetry. Say it over and over again, or it will slip away. In the absence of fixed, textual anchors for words, there would be a sharp sense that language is charged with power, almost magic: the idea that words, when spoken, can bring about new states of affairs in the world. They do not so much describe, as invoke.

As a consequence of the development of writing, first in the ancient Near East and soon after in Greece, old habits of thought began to die out, and certain other, previously latent, mental faculties began to express themselves. Words were now anchored and, though spellings could change from one generation to another, or one region to another, there were now physical traces that endured, which could be transmitted, consulted and pointed to in settling questions about the use or authority of spoken language.

Writing rapidly turned customs into laws, agreements into contracts, genealogical lore into history. In each case, what had once been fundamentally temporal and singular was transformed into something eternal (as in, ‘outside of time’) and general. Even the simple act of making everyday lists of common objects – an act impossible in a primary oral culture – was already a triumph of abstraction and systematisation. From here it was just one small step to what we now call ‘philosophy’.

Homer’s epic poetry, which originates in the same oral epic traditions as those of the Balkans or of West Africa, was written down, frozen, fixed, and from this it became ‘literature’. There are no arguments in the Iliad: much of what is said arises from metrical exigencies, the need to fill in a line with the right number of syllables, or from epithets whose function is largely mnemonic (and thus unnecessary when transferred into writing). Yet Homer would become an authority for early philosophers nonetheless: revealing truths about humanity not by argument or debate, but by declamation, now frozen into text.

Plato would express extreme concern about the role, if any, that poets should play in society. But he was not talking about poets as we think of them: he had in mind reciters, bards who incite emotions with living performances, invocations and channellings of absent persons and beings.

It is not orality that philosophy rejects, necessarily: Socrates himself rejected writing, identifying instead with a form of oral culture. Plato would also ensure the philosophical canonisation of his own mentor by writing down (how faithfully, we don’t know) what Socrates would have preferred to merely say, and so would have preferred to have lost to the wind. Arguably, it is in virtue of Plato’s recording that we might say, today, that Socrates was a philosopher.

Plato and Aristotle, both, were willing to learn from Homer, once he had been written down. And Socrates, though Plato still felt he had to write him down, was already engaged in a sort of activity very different from poetic recitation. This was dialectic: the structured, working-through of a question towards an end that has not been predetermined – even if this practice emerged indirectly from forms of reasoning only actualised with the advent of writing.

The freezing in text of dialectical reasoning, with a heavy admixture (however impure or problematic) of poetry, aphorism and myth, became the model for what, in the European tradition, was thought of as ‘philosophy’ for the next few millennia.

Why are these historical reflections important today? Because what is at stake is nothing less than our understanding of the scope and nature of philosophical enquiry.

The Italian philosopher of history Giambattista Vico wrote in his Scienza Nuova (1725): ‘the order of ideas must follow the order of institutions’. This order was, namely: ‘First the woods, then cultivated fields and huts, next little houses and villages, thence cities, finally academies and philosophers.’ It is implicit for Vico that the philosophers in these academies are not illiterate. The order of ideas is the order of the emergence of the technology of writing.

Within academic philosophy today, there is significant concern arising from how to make philosophy more ‘inclusive’, but no interest at all in questioning Vico’s order, in going back and recuperating what forms of thought might have been left behind in the woods and fields.

The groups ordinarily targeted by philosophy’s ‘inclusivity drive’ already dwell in the cities and share in literacy, even if discriminatory measures often block their full cultivation of it. No arguments are being made for the inclusion of people belonging to cultures that value other forms of knowledge: there are no efforts to recruit philosophers from among Inuit hunters or Hmong peasants.

The practical obstacles to such recruitment from a true cross-section of humanity are obvious. Were it to happen, however, the simple process of moving from traditional ways of life into academic institutions would at the same time dilute and transform the perspectives that are deserving of more attention. Irrespective of such unhappy outcomes, there is already substantial scholarship on these forms of thought accumulated in philosophy’s neighbouring disciplines – notably history, anthropology, and world literatures – to which philosophers already have access. It’s a literature that could serve as a corrective to the foundational bias, present since the emergence of philosophy as a distinct activity.

As it happens, there are few members of primary oral cultures left in the world. And yet from a historical perspective the great bulk of human experience resides with them. There are, moreover, members of literate cultures, and subcultures, whose primary experience of language is oral, based in storytelling, not argumentation, and that is living and charged, not fixed and frozen. Plato saw these people as representing a lower, and more dangerous, use of language than the one worthy of philosophers.

Philosophers still tend to disdain, or at least to conceive as categorically different from their own speciality, the use of language deployed by bards and poets, whether from Siberia or the South Bronx. Again, this disdain leaves out the bulk of human experience. Until it is eradicated, the present talk of the ideal of inclusion will remain mere lip-service.

Justin E. H. Smith is a professor of history and philosophy of science at the Université Paris Diderot – Paris 7. He writes frequently for The New York Times and Harper’s Magazine. His latest book is The Philosopher: A History in Six Types (2016).