Was Einstein the First to Discover General Relativity?

Today the world celebrates the day 100 years ago that Albert Einstein submitted his final version of the general theory of relativity to the Prussian Royal Academy. A theory of gravitation with critical consequences, it completely transformed the field of theoretical physics and astronomy. Einstein has long been celebrated and popularized for his contribution, but some have continued to ask whether he was, in fact, the first to discover general relativity. Daniel Kennefick, co-author of An Einstein Encyclopedia, looks at the debate:

Einstein’s Race

By Daniel Kennefick

On November 25, 1915 Einstein submitted one of the most remarkable scientific papers of the twentieth century to the Prussian Academy of Sciences in Berlin. The paper presented the final form of what are called the Einstein Equations, the field equations of gravity which underpin Einstein’s General Theory of Relativity. Thus this year marks the centenary of that theory. Within a few years this paper had supplanted Newton’s Universal Theory of Gravitation as our explanation of the phenomenon of gravitation, as well as overthrown Newton’s understanding of such fundamental concepts as space, time and motion. As a result Einstein became, and has remained, the most famous and celebrated scientist since Newton himself.

EinsteinBut what if Einstein was not the first scientist to publish these famous equations? Should they be called, not the Einstein equations, but the Einstein-Hilbert equations, honoring also the German mathematician David Hilbert? In 1915, Einstein visited Hilbert in Gottingen, and Hilbert convinced him that the goal of a fully general relativistic theory was achievable, something Einstein had nearly convinced himself could not be done. Einstein returned to work, and by November, he had found the field equations which give General Relativity its final form. However, Hilbert also worked on the ideas Einstein had discussed with him and published a paper discussing how Einstein’s theory fitted in with his own ideas on the role of mathematics in physics.

The argument for honoring Hilbert lies in a paper written by him which included the Einstein equations, derived from fundamental principles. This paper, while appearing several months after Einstein’s, was submitted on November 20, and Hilbert even sent Einstein a copy which probably reached Einstein before he submitted his own paper. In fact, a few people have even gone so far as to propose that Einstein might have stolen the final form of his equations from Hilbert.

Of course even if that were true, we are talking only about one final term in the equations (Einstein had published a close to correct version earlier in the month) and to Einstein would still belong sole credit for the enormous amount of work which went into the argument by which equations with these unique properties were singled out in the first place. We would still recognize Einstein for the critical physical thinking, while acknowledging Hilbert’s superior mathematical ability in more quickly finding the final correct form of the equations. Still, perhaps Hilbert would deserve a share of the credit for that final step. Why then do the centenary celebrations mention Einstein only and omit Hilbert almost completely?

One reason is that in the late 1990s a historian working on Hilbert named Leo Corry made a remarkable discovery. He found a copy of the proofs of Hilbert’s paper, with a printers stamp dating it to December 6, 1915. These proofs show that Hilbert made significant changes to the paper after this date. In addition, the proofs do not contain the Einstein equations. The proofs have been cut up here and there (probably by the printers themselves as they worked), so it is possible that the equations would be there if we had the missing pieces. But it is also quite possible that amidst the changes Hilbert made to the paper, he took the opportunity to include the final form of the equations from Einstein’s paper. Indeed some of the changes he made after December 6 were to update his argument from earlier versions of Einstein’s theory to the later version.

Certainly it was Einstein who felt himself to be the injured party in this short-lived priority dispute (arguably the only occasion in his life when Einstein found himself in such a dispute). He complained to a friend that Hilbert was trying to “nostrify” his theory, to claim a share of the credit. Einstein complained to Hilbert himself indeed, and some of the changes made in proofs by Hilbert included the addition of remarks giving credit for the basic ideas behind the theory to Einstein. At any rate, Einstein tried not to let proprietary feelings color his feelings of gratitude for Hilbert. He recalled well that Hilbert had played an important role in encouraging Einstein to return to his theory at a time when Einstein had, to some extent, given up on his original goals. On December 20, 1915, he wrote to Hilbert:

“There has been a certain resentment between us, the cause of which I do not want analyze any further. I have fought against the feeling of bitterness associated with it, and with complete success. I again think of you with undiminished kindness and I ask you to attempt the same with me. It is objectively a pity if two guys that have somewhat liberated themselves from this shabby world are not giving pleasure to each other.” (translated and quoted in Corry, Renn and Stachel, 1997).

So if Einstein was becoming the new Newton, as the man who solved the riddle of gravity, he was far from being a new Newton in another sense; of being the sort of man who carries on scientific grudges to the detriment of his friendship with the other great thinkers of his day.

Daniel Kennefick is associate professor of physics at the University of Arkansas, an editor of the Collected Papers of Albert Einstein, and the author of An Einstein Encyclopedia and Traveling at the Speed of Thought: Einstein and the Quest for Gravitational Waves (Princeton).

For more on Einstein’s field equations, check out this article by Dennis Lehmkuhl at Caltech.

Of Law and Love: Jon D. Levenson on THE LOVE OF GOD

The Love of God jacket

The love of God is perhaps the most essential element in Judaism—but also one of the most confounding. In biblical and rabbinic literature, the obligation to love God appears as a formal commandment. Yet most people today think of love as a feeling. How can an emotion be commanded? Jon D. Levenson, Albert A. List Professor of Jewish Studies at Harvard University, recently took the time to answer questions about his new book, The Love of God: Divine Gift, Human Gratitude, and Mutual Faithfulness in Judaism.

How did you first get the idea of writing a book on the love of God in Judaism?

JL:  To love God is actually taken as a formal commandment in the rabbinic sources, and the passages in Deuteronomy that mandate it appear in texts that Talmudic law requires to be recited every day of the year. So, for anyone who aspires to be a practicing Jew, the subject comes up rather obviously and regularly—even if many people in that category don’t give it much thought. But one of my professors in my doctoral program many moons ago was the distinguished Assyriologist and Biblicist William L. Moran, whose classic article on “The Ancient Near Eastern Background of the Love of God in Deuteronomy,” published in the Catholic Biblical Quarterly in 1963, had a huge effect on me when I read it my first year in graduate school.

In brief, Professor Moran shows that the idiom of the love of God (that is, the people Israel’s love for God) originates in ancient treaties, or covenants, and has to do with the lesser party’s exclusive and undivided service of the greater party. In an earlier book, Sinai and Zion: An Entry into the Jewish Bible, I dealt with this same transposition (as I put it) from the realm of politics and international relations to the realm of theology and national identity. In the first chapter of The Love of God, I try to draw out a number of further implications of Professor Moran’s argument but also to make some refinements on it and to enter respectful dissents from it.

What kind of refinements and dissents do you have in mind?

JL: For one thing, although I totally agree that “love” has a technical, legal meaning in Deuteronomy and elsewhere in the Hebrew Bible (or Old Testament), I also agree with those who insist that the technical usage doesn’t preclude the emotional or affective connotations that the word has for most people. To put it differently, sometimes loving may simply mean loyal service and faithful obedience, but we need to guard against over-generalizing from such passages, just as we need to guard against interpreting “love” in this context as a purely subjective, emotional state without normative behavioral correlates. I try to show that in Deuteronomy God falls in love with Israel—I don’t think the language is exclusively technical but rather it connotes passion—and demands a response that has its own affective character. In other words, we have to reckon with both an outward and an inward dimension, though recognizing that the inward-outward dichotomy is not itself native to ancient Near Eastern culture and can lead interpreters of the Bible astray. In fact, the movement is in both directions. Actions awaken and deepen emotions, and emotions generate and make sense of actions.

I also stress more than Moran did the connection of the two meanings of “the love of God”—the love God receives and the love he gives. Both are found in Deuteronomy, though the rhetorical situation of that book leads it to emphasize the love the people Israel must give to God. An important part of the covenantal idea is that the greater party (in this case, God) has endowed the lesser party with gifts—like all true gifts, they are undeserved—and this should motivate the recipient to respond not only with gratitude and humility but also with acts of service. There is something in a gift that provokes reciprocity, and that reciprocity deepens the relationship of the two parties. This is what I mean by the words in the subtitle, “Divine Gift, Human Gratitude, and Mutual Faithfulness.” Simply to treat the norms of the Torah—the mitzvot as they are called in Hebrew—as impersonal injunctions divorced from that living relationship with that very personal God is to misunderstand them profoundly. In my experience, doing so makes the Torah itself seem incoherent and antique. It is a huge blunder to try to force the biblical commandments altogether into the Procrustean bed of ethics, morals, folkways, or whatever. In this book, I try to lay out the alternatives that the classical biblical and rabbinic sources offer to these very modern, and in my opinion not very successful, strategies.

I noticed that in your second chapter, “Heart, Soul, and Might,” you deal at length with suffering and martyrdom. Why?

JL: That chapter focuses on the ancient rabbinic interpretations of the famous commandment to “love the LORD [which is actually a proper name] your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might.” The rabbis stress the unconditionality and supremacy of such love and consider ways in which a person might be tempted to prefer something else to that arduous commandment. So long as one puts self-interest above grateful and loving service, he or she has fallen short of the ideal. Part of the problem is that the biblical sources themselves (especially Deuteronomy again) promise all manner of good things to one who loves God, observing his commandments, and the opposite to one who fails to do so, breaking faith and breaching covenant. So, the rabbis are eager to stress that the hope for reward and the fear of punishment must not be the basis of the service. The Jew must persevere in his or her service; he or she must work at loving God even in the hardest and most frightful of situations. Here, the horrific martyrdom of Rabbi Akiva around 135 CE serves as a key object lesson.

One implication that I draw out from this is that the foundational narratives in which the God of Israel acts a generous benefactor establish the continuing norm. In other words, that situation overrides the immediate circumstances in which Jews find themselves—even circumstances of brutal persecution and death. The love that his gifts called forth was to remain firmly in place even when the gifts appear to have been withdrawn, replaced, in fact, by unspeakable hardship. This, in turn, leads me to reflect on the relationship of the unconditional to the conditional both in the love relationship of God and the Jewish people in these sources and in love relationships more generally.

It’s only in your third chapter that you develop the idea of a romance between God and the people Israel. Tell us why you didn’t do so earlier.

JL: The reason is simple: love in the ancient world—and really in the modern as well—isn’t exclusively or even primarily sexual in nature, even though sexual love commands disproportionate attention at the moment, especially in the fashions of academia. The Hebrew Bible has many metaphors for the God-Israel relationship: suzerain and vassal, king and subject, father and son, shepherd and flock, etc. In order to understand the marital metaphor—God as husband, Israel as wife—it is important to have dealt with some of these others, especially the suzerain-vassal metaphor, beforehand. Otherwise, we’re likely to read all kinds of contemporary assumptions about sexuality and gender into literature that operates on completely different understandings. In particular, if we don’t grasp the dynamics of covenant, we’ll find God’s actions in that marriage to be bizarre and patently indefensible.

For example, in our modern American world, if the wife gives her affections and her body to other men, a common solution lies in divorce: the two parties just go their separate ways, hoping to end up with partners more to their liking. But that is exactly what doesn’t happen in the marital metaphor as the biblical prophets develop it! Here again, the element of unconditionality is crucial. God doesn’t walk away from the relationship, even if Israel has done so. He doesn’t replace her or even take a second wife (remember, ancient Israel had no legal or moral problem with polygamy). He punishes her, even harshly, but this turns out to be a preparation for a restoration of the marriage. The punishment is a consequence of his passionate love for her and faithfulness to her. Ultimately, it evinces a renewal of her love for him, in turn. All this, of course, is foreign to us and doesn’t comport with how we think human husbands ought to act. But that doesn’t authorize us to miss the underlying theology, satisfying ourselves with a simple characterization of it as immoral or whatever.

Later, in the case of the rabbis, the speakers in the great biblical love poem, the Song of Songs, come to be seen as God and Israel, again in their ideal state of mutual fidelity. That’s not the plain sense of the book taken as a stand-alone composition, but within the context of the rest of biblical literature, it is a very natural—and very productive and very moving—way to read it. Nowhere does one see the power of the love of God more dramatically than in the rabbinic interpretations of the Song of Songs. That biblical book enabled the rabbis to interpret the whole history of the God-Israel relationship as a romance—an extremely important move in the history of Jewish thought.

In your last two chapters, you deal with medieval and modern materials. What changes in the Middle Ages and modernity?

JL: The medieval thinkers continue the rabbinic legacy but also add to it. For example, they sometimes interpret the female speaker of the Song of Songs as the individual soul. They also provide practical guidance about how to attain the love of God. For them again, that’s something to work on; it doesn’t just happen to you. It’s also in the Middle Ages that we first see the sustained interaction of the rabbinic legacy with philosophy. In one case, that of Maimonides, the philosopher waxes passionate about humans’ love for God but has problems with the idea that God loves humans, or anything else. That’s because he believes all human language to describe God is akin to idolatry; a God who’s susceptible to love seems imperfect to Maimonides. But I show that other medieval Jewish philosophers develop sophisticated arguments against him on this. To them, to love is a sign of perfection, not imperfection, and God’s love—even his passionate, unpredictable love—is a sign of his greatness.

In modern times, momentous changes appear with emancipation and secularization. Now one can leave the Jewish community without having to convert to Christianity or anything else. This makes observance of the mitzvot (commandments) just one lifestyle option among many; it’s no longer a social necessity or an obvious response to a divine will. Martin Buber, one of the two thinkers I examine in my last chapter, believes deeply in a personal God, but he also argues that whether the commandments in the Torah really reflect his will has to be determined by each individual on a case-by-case basis. So, ultimately and perhaps also unwittingly, Buber opts for the disconnected, autonomous self of modern liberalism. But his friend and collaborator Franz Rosenzweig comes to see God’s love as something that transforms and enlarges the self and impels it towards acceptance of the mitzvot—though without the support of old and now discredited historical claims.

Will the reader find surprises in The Love of God? Do you say things that contradict what people are likely to expect?

JL: Yes, I think so. For one, most people have an image of law as cold, confining, and impersonal, and, in the case of Judaism, two millennia of Christian polemicizing about “Pharisaism” and the like continue to take their toll, even among people who don’t identify as Christian. The notion that God’s gift of the Torah and the Jews’ careful observance of it are both acts of intense love will surprise those who instinctively see law and love as necessarily in opposition or tension.

In my previous Princeton University Press book, Inheriting Abraham: The Legacy of the Patriarch in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, I tried to shed new light on the vexing question of the chosenness, or election, of the Jews, and I’ve continued that, but with a somewhat different tack, in the new book. When chosenness is put into a framework of justice, the lack of objective merit of the chosen becomes a huge obstacle. But love isn’t based on objective assessments of merit. It has an unpredictable or irrational dimension, what today people call the “chemistry” the two parties experience. And love, because it’s relational, is necessarily particular. There’s room in Judaism for the idea that God loves all humanity, but his love for the people Israel cannot be identified with his love for everybody.

Actually, in speaking about this subject around the country, I’ve found that many people are unaware that the idea of a personal relationship with a loving God is part of Judaism at all. Partly, this is because of the legacy of the Christian caricature of the Old Testament as a book of harsh legalisms enforced by an angry, judgmental God (though there have long been many, many Christians who don’t subscribe to that notion). Partly, it’s because modern Judaism has tended to stress the mitzvot as manifested in ethics and social action over than the traditional theological claim that the mitzvot make a connection with the personal, loving God.

Finally, I think many readers will be surprised by the stress in medieval sources on solitary devotion and contemplation and on abstinence as key elements in Jewish spirituality. Almost all versions of modern Judaism have long been propounding a view of Judaism as communal, active, and world-affirming, but that is a gross over-simplification of the older tradition. As for abstinence or asceticism, one must always ask what the positive gain is that the renunciation or self-control at issue delivers. In the case of Baḥya ibn Paquda, one of the medieval thinkers examined in chapter 4, the asceticism serves the interest of increasing one’s love of God, which for Baḥya is the “consummation of the spiritual life,” as I entitle that chapter.

There may be other surprises, but to find out what they are, people will just have to read the book!

Jon D. Levenson is the Albert A. List Professor of Jewish Studies at Harvard University. His many books include The Love of God, as well as Resurrection and the Restoration of Israel, which won the National Jewish Book Award, and Inheriting Abraham and Creation and the Persistence of Evil (both Princeton).













University Press Week Blog Tour day 4: #TBT

UpWeekThe University Press Week blog tour continues with day four, aptly themed Throwback Thursday. Delve into the fascinating past of university press publishing with new featured posts from these presses:

Project Muse celebrates their 20th anniversary by offering some highlights from their 20 years of university press content.

University of Minnesota Press shares infographics highlighting their 90th birthday this year.

University of Chicago Press offers a TBT written as a letter from the past…from the year the PDF was introduced in 1991.

University of Manitoba Press shares books, catalogs, and book launch photos from the 48 years UMP has been publishing.

University of Washington Press celebrates their centennial by featuring highlights and photos from 100 years of UW Press history.

Duke University Press brings us a special throwback to all of their surprising journal covers.

University of Texas Press offers a look back on the street style of 1970s Pennsylvania through the lens of seminal street photographer Mark Cohen.

University of Michigan Press describes the evolution of their book, “Michigan Trees” through the more than 100 years the publication has been maintained and edited, with a screen shot of the original cover.

University Press of Kansas takes a trip through their list via a “Today in History” theme.

Minnesota Historical Society Press shares Mike Evangelist’s Downtown: Minneapolis in the 1970s, which captures a memorable time and place in the past.

University of California Press remembers their Autobiography of Mark Twain, Vol. 1 publication in 2010: A media cause célèbre.

University of Toronto Press highlights the various cover designs their journals have had over the years (some journals have been publishing for hundreds of years, so expect some interesting ones!)

Fordham University Press features What Might Have Been… A trip through New York City’s Unbuilt Subway System.

Hamburgers in Paradise: 12 Facts

FrescoDepictions of paradise can be found throughout the centuries, portrayed as an impossible, unchanging ecosystem in perpetual motion that provides an abundance of food, water, and shade to sustain humans and animals in perfect harmony with no effort required. In Hamburgers in Paradise, Louise O. Fresco argues that the idea of paradise as an impossibly stable, diverse, and productive ecosystem has had a profound effect on our thinking about nature, farming, and food, and remains a powerful influence even today. Despite secularization, paradise is a frame of reference for what we think and do in relation to food.

Today at 2:30, Fresco will be presenting her book to Kenneth Quinn, the World Food Prize ambassador, at the 2015 Borlaug Dialogue, hosted by The World Food Prize. You can view the live stream online, and you can join the conversation online using #WorldFoodPrize.


A few facts from the book that may surprise you:

  • In most Western European countries, life expectancy tripled in the period 1750-2000, when food began to be available in large quantities.
  • The history of tens of thousands of years of food scarcity explains our preference for foods high in calories, proteins, and other essential nutrients.
  • All religions attribute moral and psychological properties to food. For example, the kingfisher has been seen as a symbol of abundance and prosperity, and so it was not to be eaten. In many religions fasting, or the resistance of temptation for food, is seen as the highest virtue.
  • In the U.S., the tasteless bun of a hamburger is not the norm because Americans don’t know how to bake bread, but because a certain consistency is needed to bring out the juiciness of the meat. The bun is wrapping, plate, and napkin first and a source of carbohydrates to balance out the protein of the meat second.
  • The earliest archaeological evidence of farming comes from 9,500 years ago.
  • Dependence on food introduced from elsewhere is an ancient phenomenon, reflected in the names used and the confusion surrounding them. For example, in Italian corn is called “grano turco” or “Turkish grain,” the word “Turkey” signifying oriental or exotic and not its actual origin since corn comes from Central America.
  • Without the influence of humans, neither wheat, corn, apples, nor lettuce would ever have evolved from their wild ancestors.
  • 30% of the surface of the earth is used as farmland or pasture.
  • Bread can be a symbol of plenty, but it can also be a symbol of want. There are countless examples in literature of the proverbial poor thief who steals a loaf for his family. Victor Hugo used this trope to great effect in Les Misérables.
  • Bread was so important in Ancient Rome that the killing of a baker was punished three times as severely as the killing of an ordinary citizen.
  • Archaeological remains of sieves suggest that cheese may have been made in the Alps more than 5,000 years ago.
  • In the Netherlands no more than 4.5% of people are vegetarians, in Germany perhaps 9%, and in Italy 10%.

An interview with Edmund Fawcett about “Liberalism: The Life of an Idea”

Fawcett jacketIs liberal democracy in need of a serious overhaul? As we release the paperback of Liberalism: The Life of an Idea, (which includes a new preface), Edmund Fawcett took the time to answer some questions about his book, including whether liberalism means different things in Europe than it does in America, where exactly liberal democracy comes from, and what about it is in need of repair.

Why liberalism and why a history?

EF: My book’s topical for a simple reason. Where liberal democracy exists, it badly needs repair. Where it doesn’t, it is losing appeal. Nobody disputes that. What’s harder is to say what liberal democracy is and why it matters. Oddly, few books tell us. Mine does both. We need to see where liberal democracy come from. We need to see what we risk losing. As history, my book looks ahead by looking back.

What makes your book on liberalism different?

EF: It looks past disputed, misleading labels like “freedom” or “the individual” to what liberals really care about and aim for. It combines history and ideas. It foregrounds French and German liberals, too often ignored. It handles tricky academic disputes–in politics, economics and philosophy–in a readable, non-academic way. It holds a complicated, 200-year story together through lives and thoughts of exemplary thinkers and politicians.

Don’t Europeans and Americans mean different things by “liberal”?

EF: Not really. On the American right, it’s true, “liberal” is a term of abuse. On the European left, “liberal” means a lackey of neo-capitalism. We can’t, though, let sloganeers hog the argument. France, Germany and the US are liberal democracies. China and Russia are not. Everybody understands what those two sentences mean. Nobody seriously disputes that they are true. The meaning problem with “liberal” is a side issue.

Some reviewers found your liberal tent too big, your idea of liberalism too loose.

EF: Funny complaints for a book on liberalism. It’s not a sect or creed. Inclusiveness ought to be a liberal virtue. Seriously, Liberalism set out four key ideas that unite liberals and tell them apart from their rivals, then and now: resistance to power, faith in progress, equal respect for people and acceptance that social conflict was inevitable, but containable. I distinguished liberalism from democracy, often confused, and described how in the 20th century liberal democracy grew out of historic compromises between the two.

In your big cast of more than 50 characters, name some favorites.

EF: In the 19th century, the thinker John Stuart Mill, for trying hardest to hold together liberal conflicting elements together. Lincoln for his power of liberal words. In the 20th century, Lyndon Johnson for the liberal capacity to change and Germany’s Willy Brandt for the ability to admit national wrong. And now? It’s hard to see one’s own time. Giants are only visible looking back. A fair guess: today’s liberal giants won’t all be white, US-European and male.

What is new in your preface to the paperback?

EF: I answer criticisms, some fair, some not fair. I clarify points of mine that led to misunderstandings. I stress that why I wrote the book–challenges to liberal democracy from inside and out–strikes me as even more pressing now than when I began. I explain that I left out critics and alternatives to liberalism from right and left. Those topics were too vast for one book, though I’m turning to conservatism now.

Edmund Fawcett worked at The Economist for more than three decades, serving as chief correspondent in Washington, Paris, and Berlin, as well as European and literary editor. His writing has also appeared in the New York Times, the Los Angeles Times, and the Guardian, among other publications.

Introducing the new video trailer for The Quotable Feynman

Nobel Prize-winning physicist Richard P. Feynman (1918–88) is widely known for his scientific genius. But during his life, he became as famous for the wit, wisdom, and lucidity of his popular lectures and writings as for his fundamental contributions to physics. We are pleased to present the new video trailer for The Quotable Feynman, including approximately 500 quotations carefully selected by his daughter, Michelle Feynman, from his spoken and written legacy:

Check out chapter one here.





Woodrow Wilson Papers to go online with new partnership

Princeton University Press, The Woodrow Wilson Presidential Library, and the University of Virginia Press Partner To Create Digital Edition of THE PAPERS OF WOODROW WILSON

wilson portraitPRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS (PUP), the WOODROW WILSON PRESIDENTIAL LIBRARY(WWPL), and the UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA PRESS (UVaP) announced today an agreement to create THE PAPERS OF WOODROW WILSON DIGITAL EDITION (PWWDE). Edited by Arthur S. Link and published by Princeton University Press, The Papers of Woodrow Wilson will be digitized and made available online in UVaP’s Rotunda American History collection, with the permission of PUP and the generous support of friends of the WWPL.

“This partnership among two university presses and a presidential library harnesses the intellectual investment and publishing expertise represented in the great documentary editions of the last century,” said Peter Dougherty, Director of Princeton University Press, “and makes them more accessible and valuable through this century’s digital technologies.”

Princeton University Press published the print edition of the Papers of Woodrow Wilson, consisting of 69 volumes with a 5-part index, between 1966 and 1994. The edition’s editor, Arthur Stanley Link (1920–1998),Edwards Professor of History Emeritus at Princeton University, was widely considered a pioneer in the field of documentary editing as well as the foremost scholar of Woodrow Wilson, the 28th President of the United States. The Link edition includes Wilson’s personal correspondence, academic works, and speeches, minutes of the Paris Peace Conference, and diary entries of close associates Edward House, Cary Grayson, and Josephus Daniels, totaling approximately 38,400 documents from a vast range of government and academic sources. The most significant sources of Wilson material in the published volumes are stored in the Library of Congress and Princeton University.  The Journal of American History described the Papers of Woodrow Wilson as “an unprecedented illumination of Wilson’s activities and ideas.”

Woodrow Wilson is one of the most accessible presidents in American history due to the precise organization, annotation, and indexing of the Papers of Woodrow Wilson. The Rotunda digital edition will enhance discovery of Wilson’s papers by adapting the documents, annotation, and indexing created by Arthur Link and his fellow editors to a state-of-the-art electronic publishing platform. “Inclusion in Rotunda not only provides the most up-to-date digital publishing technology,” said Mark H. Saunders, Director of UVaP. “It puts the Wilson material in conversation with other important figures in American political history, from the Founding Fathers to participants in the civil rights and Vietnam eras. Comparing the view of Thomas Jefferson, Woodrow Wilson, and Lyndon Johnson on a subject such as race or presidential power can provide new scholarly insights that were hard to imagine in an age of analog information or siloed digital repositories.”

The WWPL anticipates digitizing further materials in its collection and the collection of the Library of Congress, including a selection of Wilson’s correspondence during World War I and documents from Wilson’s later public career, and making them available in the coming years. “There is a vast array of important Wilson material that could not be included due to the constraints of a print edition,” said Don W. Wilson, President of WWPL Foundation. “Those documents will now be made available to scholars, students, and the interested public.” Additional collections held at Princeton University, among them letters between Woodrow Wilson and his wives, Edith and Ellen, and his daughter Jessie Sayre, would also be added to the PWWDE.

Press contacts:

Emily Grandstaff : ekg4a@virginia.edu

Debra Liese: Debra_Liese@press.princeton.edu

Behind every meal you eat, there is a story

Louise Fresco, president of Wageningen University and Research Centre in the Netherlands and author of Hamburgers in Paradise, talks about that story here:


An interview with Eberhard Faber on “Building the Land of Dreams”

Faber jacketNew Orleans, iconic city of Mardi Gras, gumbo and jazz, was once little more than a sleepy outpost at the edge of Spain’s American empire. By the 1820s, with thriving cotton and sugar industries, the city was well on the way to becoming the urban capital of the antebellum South. Looking the ideological struggle, class politics, and powerful personalities that accompanied its transformation, Building the Land of Dreams is the narrative biography of a fascinating city at the most crucial turning point in its history. Recently, Eberhard Faber took the time to answer some questions about his book.

What inspired you to become a historian?

EF: It took a long time for me to become a professional historian; I was a touring musician for almost fifteen years before going back to school to study history. But I was always fascinated by history. As a kid I remember reading William Shirer’s Rise and Fall of the Third Reich. During my music years I remember reading Robert Caro’s The Power Broker in the back of the tour bus. History is simply a way of looking at the world and trying to understand it. I’ve always looked at the world this way.

As far as how I got interested in New Orleans and the South, it happened early in grad school at Princeton; I wrote a research paper for Linda Colley about the short-lived British colony in West Florida formed in 1763, and all the sources that I read pointed to New Orleans as a crucial strategic point in that era. The next year I wrote a paper for John Murrin about the South in the War of 1812, culminating with the Battle of New Orleans. The year after that I moved down to New Orleans for what was to have been a year of research; we got hooked and live here still.

What was the most interesting thing you learned from writing Building the Land of Dreams?

EF: Well, so many things. But perhaps it would be the biographies of the many people who moved to New Orleans in the months following the Louisiana Purchase, from the northern United States but also from across the Atlantic: England, Ireland, and France especially. In the book I call them the “generation of 1804” because they arrived right after the Louisiana Purchase. They were a varied cohort, and they fought amongst each other a lot, but I found their energy, ambition and idealism very appealing. One common characteristic was that they were all sincere believers in the world-changing possibilities of republican rule. They thought this radical experiment that the United States had only recently embarked upon was going to rewrite everything about human history. In New Orleans they ran into a conservative creole planter class that believed in none of those things, and they had a rude awakening of sorts. It’s a fascinating encounter.

What do you think is the book’s most important contribution?

EF: I think it has been a very common assumption that the United States imposed certain changes on Louisiana after 1803. That the course New Orleans and its wider region took, in the early nineteenth century, was an outcome of the policies of Thomas Jefferson and other American statesmen. What Building the Land of Dreams shows is that there were already very powerful entrenched interests in the area and that they, not the United States, ultimately had the power to dictate outcomes. What Jefferson and Madison could do was actually very limited; while the creole elite, on the other hand, initially threatened by republicanism, figured out that it actually gave them tremendous power to design the regimes – of law, of slavery, and race – that they had long wanted under colonial rule.

What is the biggest misunderstanding people have about what you do?

EF: Well, as far as my work in particular, I don’t think enough people know it for any major misunderstandings to have developed. As for the profession, I think there is a very wide gap between what the general public thinks of as “history” and what historians do in colleges and universities. If you go into a book store, many of the history books will be about military history (and at least half of those will be about the Civil War) and of the rest, a good portion will have Presidents on the cover. This leads many people to believe history is mostly about battles and Presidents, whereas in fact the field is so much bigger than that. The fact that it’s not understood is the fault of the field, of course. We need to do a better job of reaching the public and engaging their interest in historical issues.

What is your next project?

EF: I have two. One is a biography of the lawyer, legal reformer, and politician Edward Livingston, who was Mayor of New York and then fled from a scandal in 1803 to New Orleans. He ended up deeply entangled in New Orleans politics and power struggles and plays a major role in Building the Land of Dreams. I read almost all his personal papers in the course of writing the book and would love to focus on him exclusively for my next project.

The other one is totally different: a history of the music industry in the United States since the invention of the gramophone in the 1890s, with an emphasis on the parallel history of the rise of American capitalism.

What would you have been if not a historian?

EF: Well, that’s easy, since I was a musician (guitar player, songwriter, bandleader, arranger, record producer) for fifteen years before turning to history. I still play actively, too, within the limits imposed by writing and teaching. If the question is what would I have been if I was neither a musician nor a historian – well, my original hope was to be a professional baseball player, but at 5’ 5” that was never entirely realistic.

What are you reading right now?

EF: I’m currently reading Walter Johnson’s River of Dark Dreams. It covers some of the same historical ground as my book – even including the word Dreams in the title! – but from a very different attitude and perspective. I find it alternately infuriating and revelatory. Either way it’s certain to become an important part of the discussion on the antebellum South. Other wonderful books I’ve read lately include Sarah Carr’s brilliant exposé on the New Orleans public school system since Katrina, Hope Against Hope; Robert Gordon’s classic history of Stax Records, Respect Yourself; and Greg Iles’ epic Southern mystery novel Natchez Burning.

What was the most influential book you’ve read?

EF: I always come back to Thomas Mann’s The Magic Mountain, an allegorical novel about Europe before the Great War. Although it’s fiction, it contains great intellectual history, and combines themes that are essentially historical with deep exploration of human psychology. The same is true of War and Peace, which also had a profound effect on me: a meditation on the meaning of history and the sources of historical change, inextricably intertwined with such “interior” issues as the nature of human suffering and the attempt to find meaning in the universe. All historians should read these books. They remind us of the spiritual dimension behind the often dry academic debates that tend to cloud the field.

Meanwhile, in the realm of historical scholarship, I could mention so many – Henry Adams, Schlesinger, Hofstadter, Genovese, Gordon Wood, Rhys Isaac, William Cronon, Alan Taylor, my mentors Linda Colley and Sean Wilentz – but the one book that truly did influence me more deeply and permanently than any other was Richard White’s The Middle Ground. I don’t even think I’m very much like White as a historian, temperamentally and aesthetically; he’s a burrower, while I’m a wanderer; he eschews drama completely, while I am simply incapable of living without it. But the method, the dedication, the integrity, the matching of evidence to ideas, the rigor of the concepts, the sense of change over time, in that book, all of that is just so beautiful to me, and it remains a very distant and unreachable benchmark of sorts.

Describe your writing process. How long did it take you to finish your book? Where do you write?

EF: I like to write in libraries. I really love a nice library: the sensation that you are being enveloped in quiet and ideas and books, and that your work is going to merge into this enormous sea of scholarship that surrounds you. I wrote most of the first draft of Building the Land of Dreams on the C Floor of Princeton’s Firestone Library, 3 floors below ground level, in a tiny carrel. I wrote most of the revised version at the Community Coffee shop at the corner of Jefferson Ave. and Magazine St. in New Orleans (which is appropriate, because developing Thomas Jefferson’s part in the story was one of the biggest changes in the second draft).

As far as method and process, I think research and preparation is really 80% of the task, the actual writing is the final 20%. I spent lots of time on research; I read Edward Livingston’s papers in their entirety (140-some boxes worth), I read the New Orleans Conseil de Ville records in their entirety from 1803 to 1819, I have read pretty much every piece of secondary literature on early Louisiana ever written. It all goes into a big database (although, life being what it is, there’s always lots of stuff that never makes it into the database, too). By the time I actually start writing I have a very good idea of what I am going to say, including exact phrasing in many cases. The phrases have been building up in my head during showers and long drives for the months prior to writing them down. When I actually get going I write fast, and I write a lot. I have to trim a lot, too, eventually. The final version of Building the Land of Dreams is probably about equal in size to the pile of stuff that got left out and discarded along the way.

The whole project took almost seven years from beginning to end – three of which were spent working on the project pretty much full time, and four of which were spent balancing the writing and research with teaching.

Why did you write this book?

EF: I think I wrote the book because I had the very good fortune to have the institutional backing of Princeton University and Loyola University New Orleans; because I have a wonderfully supportive family; because I have a terrific network of colleagues and peers including a handful of close friends in my grad student cohort, my mentors at Princeton and in New Orleans, and the brother/sisterhood of Louisiana historians; in short because I am a very fortunate person in many ways. Good work doesn’t just spring from the genius of the author, but from very particular social circumstances in which the author is embedded. When I switched from a music career to an academic one, I knew I still wanted to be a creative person. I was lucky to find a great topic I could throw myself into and a great network of supporters to help me towards the finish. And lastly, in the final phase of turning this from a “project” into an actual book, I have also benefited greatly from the support and advice of Brigitta van Rheinberg, Quinn Fusting, and everyone else at Princeton University Press.

How did you come up with the title or jacket?

EF: Building the Land of Dreams – well, the phrase “Land of Dreams” comes from two places. One is William Blake’s poem, from the Pickering Manuscript, written around the time of the Louisiana Purchase. Blake never traveled to New Orleans, but the poem suggests the expanded mental universe of possibilities in the midst of the Age of Revolutions – and those world-changing possibilities were very much a part of the mental landscape of early 19th century New Orleans in the years after 1803. The second source, of course, is Spencer Williams’ “Basin Street Blues,” made famous by Louis Armstrong’s 1926 recording, which led to the “Land of Dreams” becoming one of the Crescent City’s many nicknames – and which, in the line about the banks of the Mississippi being “the place where dark and light folks meet,” also speaks to the central place of race in the city’s history and in my understanding of it.

The book’s jacket is a painting by John Boqueta de Woiserie, A View of New Orleans Taken from the Plantation of Marigny. It was painted in 1803, in celebration of the Louisiana Purchase and the American takeover, and it shows an eagle hovering over New Orleans, with a banner in its beak that reads “Under my wings/everything prospers.” It shows the enormous optimism with which some people, at least, greeted the prospect of American rule; the linked faith in personal liberty and material prosperity; and an unironic faith in the American promise that seems, in this cynical era, all too naïve. The book is the story of the various ways that promise was both betrayed and fulfilled.

Eberhard L. Faber teaches history and music industry studies at Loyola University, New Orleans. Previously, he spent twelve years leading the New York-based rock band God Street Wine. He blogs on New Orleans history and other topics at www.crescentcityconfidential.com.

An interview with Robert Holub on “Nietzsche’s Jewish Problem”

Nietzsche’s views about Jews and Judaism have been subject to considerable debate over the last century, though an increasingly popular view today holds that he was a principled adversary of antisemitism. In Nietzsche’s Jewish Problem, Robert Holub argues that evidence from Nietzsche’s published and unpublished writings and letters reveals that he in fact harbored anti-Jewish prejudices throughout his life. Recently, Professor Holub took the time to discuss his findings:

How did you become interested in the topic of Nietzsche’s relationship to Jews and Judaism?

Holub jacketRH: Philosophical accounts of Nietzsche have traditionally ignored his connections to discourses and movements in the late nineteenth century. In the early 1990s I embarked on a project that considered Nietzsche a “timely meditator,” someone who was participating in discussions of issues of his era. The book I hoped to produce would focus on his views on various social and scientific matters, among them the working class and socialism, women and feminism, German nationalism, colonialism, evolution, eugenics, and thermodynamics. One of the issues that interested me most was his relationship to Jews, Judaism, and anti-Semitism. The discourse about Jews and the place of Jews in German society underwent a dramatic change in the last few decades of the nineteenth century, and I wrote an article in 1995 placing Nietzsche’s views on the “Jewish Question” within this context. But when I went into academic administration – first as a dean, then as a provost and finally a chancellor – I put the entire book project on the back burner. Returning to these issues in 2012 when I came to the faculty of Ohio State, I found that my essay from 1995 was an inadequate account of Nietzsche’s views on Jews and Judaism, and that to deal with these matters in an appropriate fashion would require a book-length monograph. So I took a break from my larger project to present a fuller account of Nietzsche’s relationship to the Jewish Question. The result was Nietzsche’s Jewish Problem.

Why has this topic been so contentious over the years?

RH: There was controversy over Nietzsche’s views on Jewry from the very beginning. Some anti-Semites of his time believed he was sympathetic to their cause because his publisher was a noted anti-Semite and his sister had married a leader of the anti-Semitic movement. Moreover, Nietzsche was associated with Wagnerian ideology, which had obvious anti-Jewish dimensions, and remarks in many of Nietzsche’s writings could easily be understood as Judeophobic. But Nietzsche also rejected in the most categorical fashion what he understood as anti-Semitism, and many aphorisms, especially during his middle period, could easily be regarded as philo-Semitic. If not for the Holocaust, however, which forced a reevaluation of all German intellectual history, the topic might have remained a footnote to Nietzsche’s philosophy. Postwar treatments of his writings have generally taken his remarks on anti-Semitism to be Nietzsche’s definitive view on Jews and Judaism, and blamed any association of Nietzsche with Judeophobia on his sister or on the distortions of Nazi interpretations. The controversy over this topic is thus the result of the peculiarities of German history combined with Nietzsche’s apparently contradictory positions on the Jewish Question.

Why have previous treatments of this issue been unsatisfactory? Why did you feel that there was a need for your book?

RH: Most previous accounts were partisan and selective in their methodology. Reading them, one has the impression that they came to the material with something they wanted to prove and then sought evidence in Nietzsche’s writings. When Nietzsche became associated with National Socialism in the Third Reich, for example, you can detect a canonical interpretation of his views on Jews supported by the identical citations from his writings. In the postwar period, his condemnation of anti-Semitism was thrust into the foreground, and other, more questionable, comments on Jewry were ignored. Previous accounts were therefore partial in both senses of this word, and I felt that a new study was needed that would examine all the material, and, above all, that would situate Nietzsche’s remarks in the context of the nineteenth-century discourse on Jews and Judaism.

What role did the Nietzsche-Wagner relationship play in Nietzsche’s views on Jewry?

RH: Wagner was a decisive influence on Nietzsche in the late 1860s and early 1870s, and Nietzsche’s admiration for the composer extended into ideological realms. It appears that Nietzsche wanted to adopt and reinforce various views Wagner held on political and social issues, and we find Nietzsche in one of his early talks on Socrates and tragedy identifying Socratism with the Jewish press. Wagner, we should recall, had republished his Judeophobic essay “Judaism in Music” in 1869 at a time when Nietzsche and Wagner were very close. So it is perhaps not surprising that Nietzsche chose to emulate Wagner’s views on the pernicious affect of Jews on German culture. Nietzsche had begun to develop anti-Jewish attitudes prior to his acquaintance with Wagner, but these sentiments intensified and were reinforced as their friendship grew. And it is likely that Nietzsche’s break with Wagner, which was generally not recognized in the larger German public until the late 1880s, accounts for some of Nietzsche’s altered public, and largely favorable, pronouncements about Jews in the years from 1878-1885. Wagner is a key to understanding Nietzsche, whether the philosopher was adopting the Meister’s views of purposively opposing them.

You maintain that Nietzsche was against anti-Semitism, but at the same time you claim that he harbored anti-Jewish sentiments. How is this possible?

RH: I think the status of anti-Semitism in Nietzsche’s thought and writings has been a major source of confusion. Anti-Semitism for Nietzsche was a political movement that arose in the early 1880s. It was associated in his mind with crude and rancorous sentiments. It was also a movement that placed Nietzsche in an uncomfortable position with regard to his publisher and his sister. So Nietzsche was over-determined to disdain anti-Semitism. This categorical rejection of anti-Semitism, however, did not stop him from harboring views we would consider anti-Jewish, since Nietzsche, as well as contemporaries, like his friend Franz Overbeck, continued to identify Jews with unfavorable character traits, and saw the necessity of finding a solution to the Jewish Question. Nietzsche’s rejection of anti-Semitism and his anti-Jewish sentiments were not in contradiction for him. Indeed, they define his attitude toward Jews and Judaism.

Should Nietzsche be regarded as a forerunner of National Socialism and its racist ideology?

RH: There are strong arguments against considering Nietzsche as a precursor of National Socialism. Perhaps the two ideological pillars of Nazism were ardent nationalism and virulent anti-Semitism, and Nietzsche evidences neither of them. He was nationalistic and Judeophobic during his Wagnerian period, but he never embraced these tenets passionately and without reservation. On the other hand, Nietzsche did admire strong and dictatorial leaders, such as Napoleon; he detested democracy, parliamentary rule, and equal rights. And he flirted with eugenics in his later years, although it was never a racially based eugenics. So arguments can be made for and against this proposition. Of course Nietzsche was established as a precursor of National Socialism by Nazi philosophers and ideologues, but we should remember that some party members found it difficult to integrate him into their outlook. We should also recall that Nietzsche in his own time was vehemently opposed to any collective undertaking, whether it was on the right or the left of the political spectrum. It is difficult to know how he would have reacted to the rise of fascism in Germany several decades after his death. One of the main points of my book is that speculation of this sort is useless, and that the lens of National Socialism has contributed to a less than optimal scholarly record of Nietzsche’s views on Jews and Judaism. We can only determine with some degree of certainty where Nietzsche stood with regard to political manifestations he actually confronted in the nineteenth century.

How does your book change our views of Nietzsche as a philosopher?

RH: This question is difficult to answer. Many of Nietzsche’s most important contributions to philosophy have scant connection to his views on Jews and Judaism. So there is the temptation to regard these issues as secondary in considering Nietzsche’s philosophy and unimportant for any evaluation of his thought. Indeed, many of the most prominent philosophers in the German tradition expressed views on Jewry that were as bad as, or worse, than anything Nietzsche had to say about the subject. But we should also consider that philosophers possess a way of thinking about the world, and that part of Nietzsche’s way of thinking about the world contained stereotypes about race, gender, and ethnicity that he was unable to overcome. It would be foolish to regard everything Nietzsche wrote as contaminated by racism; but it would also be foolish to consider that his reflections on matters both historical and abstract were completely unaffected by the manner in which he approached the Jewish Question.

Robert C. Holub is Ohio Eminent Scholar and Professor of German at Ohio State University and former chancellor of the University of Massachusetts, Amherst. The author of several books on nineteenth- and twentieth-century German literary, cultural, and intellectual history, he is also the editor of editions of Nietzsche’s On the Genealogy of Morals and Beyond Good and Evil.

Read chapter one here.

Check out the book trailer for Eric Cline’s “1177 BC: The Year Civilization Collapsed”

From invasion and revolt to earthquakes and drought, the “First Dark Ages” were brought about by a complex array of events and failures, chronicled in compelling detail by Eric Cline in 1177 BC: The Year Civilization Collapsed. Adam Gopnik wrote in The New Yorker, “The memorable thing about Cline’s book is the strangely recognizable picture he paints of this very faraway time. . . . It was as globalized and cosmopolitan a time as any on record, albeit within a much smaller cosmos.”

Check out the terrific book trailer to mark the paperback release of 1177 BC:

Presenting Richard Bourke’s new video discussion of “Empire and Revolution: The Political Life of Edmund Burke”

Bourke jacketEdmund Burke was arguably one of the most captivating figures in turbulent eighteenth-century life and thought, but studies of the complex statesman and philosopher often reduce him to a one dimensional defender of the aristocracy.

Richard Bourke, professor in the history of political thought and codirector of the Centre for the Study of the History of Political Thought at Queen Mary University of London, has written a multifaceted portrait that depicts Burke as a philosopher-in-action who evaluated the political realities of the day through the lens of Enlightenment thought. The book also reconstructs one of the most fascinating eras in the history of the British empire, a period spanning myriad imperial ventures and three European wars. PUP is excited to present this new video in which Bourke discusses Empire and Revolution: The Political Life of Edmund Burke: