Elizabeth Fox-Genovese died in January 2007. She was a renowned scholar and important public intellectual, but in this reminiscence Mark Bauerlein recalls her as something else: a model colleague. Despite the many attacks on her work and the difficulties she encountered in her professional life, she always conducted herself with respect and high-mindedness. Never did Bauerlein witness her give in to gossip and vitriol. She was an example of the best of higher education, and academia is a diminished place without (...) her. (shrink)

_The Pragmatic Mind_ is a study of the pragmatism of Emerson, James, and Peirce and its overlooked relevance for the neopragmatism of thinkers like Richard Rorty, Stanley Cavell, Stanley Fish, and Cornel West. Arguing that the "original" pragmatists are too-often cited casually and imprecisely as mere precursors to this contemporary group of American intellectuals, Mark Bauerlein explores the explicit consequences of the earlier group’s work for current debates among and around the neopragmatists. Bauerlein extracts from Emerson, James, and Peirce an (...) intellectual focus that can be used to advance the broad social and academic reforms that the new pragmatists hail. He claims that, in an effort to repudiate the phony universalism of much contemporary theory, the new generation of theorists has ignored the fact that its visions of pragmatic action are grounded in this "old" school, not just in a way of _doing_ things but also in a way of _thinking_ about things. In other words, despite its inclination to regard psychological questions as irrelevant, Bauerlein shows that the pragmatic method demands a pragmatic mind—that is, a concept of cognition, judgment, habit, and belief. He shows that, in fact, such a concept of mind does exist, in the work of the "old" pragmatists. (shrink)

This book taps the best American thinkers to answer the essential American question: How do we sustain our experiment in government of, by, and for the people? Authored by an extraordinary and politically diverse roster of public officials, scholars, and educators, these chapters describe our nation's civic education problem, assess its causes, offer an agenda for reform, and explain the high stakes at risk if we fail.

In 1999, Philosophy and Literature gave the top prize in its annual Bad Writing Contest to Judith Butler, and the national press echoed the journal in denouncing critical theory as overblown, jargon-ridden, and ungrammatical. Academic theorists reacted with pique, but not a soul in the public sphere came to their defense. Now, the professors have issued an anthology justifying their prose and denouncing Denis Dutton and other critics of bad writing. They claim that bad, or rather "difficult" writing has a (...) critical thrust: to break down common sense and dismantle unjust social notions.They fail to make their case. Much of the writing is, alas, bad. Entries offer tendentious, petulant reactions to the hubbub. Rarely do they address the basic point of the contest: that humanities professors no longer respect ideals of wit, eloquence, and learning. Instead, we have another parade of academic parochialism and radical chic passing itself off as adversarial culture and social justice. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Philosophy and Literature 25.1 (2001) 177-180 [Access article in PDF] Book Review How to Defend Humane Ideals: Substitutes for Objectivity How to Defend Humane Ideals: Substitutes for Objectivity, by James R. Flynn; ix & 212 pp. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2000, $40.00. James Flynn's search for non-objective grounds for humane ideals opens with an admission that the author spent decades searching for an "ethical truth-test" by which to (...) measure ideals. This truth-test would constitute a "higher court of appeals," a nonpartisan judgment of right and wrong that would grant objectivity to the winning belief. This is the stance of Socrates and Kant. What Flynn came to realize was that the truth-tests he sampled proved to be contradictory, easily exploited, and ineffectual in convincing people of the tests' warrant. For many this collapse of ethical truth leads to relativism, and a concomitant tolerance of the values of others, however repellant one finds them. This is the stance of the postmodernists, those dedicated to "building bonfires to celebrate the demise of the Enlightenment" (p. 181). But Flynn deems the anti-truth position just as contradictory and exploitable as the truth-test position. Instead, he proposes an intermediate stance, short of objective truth but more than relativist assertion, an outlook that takes the best of truth, beauty, diversity, perfectibility, utilitarianism, and justice and casts them in a relation of trade-off and compromise.To reach this negotiation model of humaneness, Flynn must dispense with [End Page 177] three faulty beliefs. The first mistake is the objective one, that is, the reliance on ethical truth-tests (chapters 2-4). The problem lies in their grounding in "a theory of being that posits something beyond the physical universe... or that asserts that the physical universe contains something not revealed by science, such as the purposes of nature" (pp. 47-48). Plato has his Forms, Rousseau his nature, Moore his "moral goodness." The difficulty with these criteria is that, granted their existence, we know not how to apply them to human affairs. We may appeal to God to justify our actions, but in doing so "we tend to assume that God's overriding criterion of moral rectitude is similar to our own. The humane posit a benevolent God, the not so humane a stern God" (p. 72). In other words, such criteria beg the question of their use. Their transcendence of the world renders them eminently adaptable to various worldly designs, for example, when Kant reads into nature "whatever content he needs to get decisions in favor of his own principles" (p. 77).When ethical truth-tests fail in their implementation, the temptation is to reject ethical grounds altogether. Flynn terms this the "nihilist fallacy," the notion that if there is no extra-human ground for ethics, no ethical truth-test, then no ethic is justified. Flynn counters that "Even in the absence of a truth-test, people may internalize ideals and be deeply committed to them" (p. 9). They believe in those ideals not because they think they are true, but because they think they are right. Only those who believe that ethical beliefs are an epistemological matter assume that ideals must be shored up by evidence and proven to be correct. It is ironic, Flynn notes, that it is anti-epistemologists like Nietzsche who make this argument, claiming that ethical believers fail a truth-test when in fact those believers are not interested in truth-testing at all.The flip side of this nihilism is postmodernism, another ethical outlook Flynn rejects. Nihilists and postmodernists share an epistemological skepticism, treating putatively objective ideals as disguised power plays concocted to promote certain interests. They differ in how they direct that skepticism. For the Nietzschean nihilist, the interests are those of the herd and its institutions (like the Church), and so he counsels great geniuses to use lesser persons as means to their ends (pp. 127-33). For the postmodernist, the interests are those of the Western male, the naive empiricist, the imperialist, and so he counsels those privileged individuals to examine themselves... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Philosophy and Literature 26.2 (2002) 415-431 [Access article in PDF] The Humanities at Home with Themselves Mark Bauerlein The Crafty Reader, by Robert Scholes; 272 pp. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2002, $24.95. WHEN I STARTED GRADUATE SCHOOL in English in the early Eight ies, a typical thing happened. Those few students with a background in philosophy drifted together, shared influences, and developed a hierarchy of critical works. A (...) few pushed analytic philosophy and pragmatism, but overall Continental theory took first place, especially Derrida. "Structure, Sign, and Play" and "White Mythology," de Man's "Rhetoric of Temporality," Shoshana Felman's "Turning the Screw of Interpretation," and other weighty essays had the status of cutting-edge wisdom, and the hostility deconstruction drew from traditionalists and Marxists in the department only sharpened our commitment. Having no other professional standing, we savored the stigma, the roguishness. It complemented our poverty, and eased our transition from hot-shot undergraduates to first-year, prequalifying Ph.D aspirants. In the evenings, after instructing freshmen in comma splices, we gathered to trade Nietszchean epigrams and mock professors who looked befuddled at the mention of a priori and aporia.Other students found us insufferable, and doubtless we were, but not in a partisan way. We panned each other just as hard as we did the uninformed. This was UCLA, not Yale or Johns Hopkins, and personalities mattered less than arguments. If in discussion I backed a point with [End Page 415] "As Derrida says...," someone always answered, "So what?" We frowned on arguments from authority. Popularizations such as Jonathan Culler's On Deconstruction earned our scorn. They were one step up from Cliff's Notes, packed with servile observations like "Jean Baudrillard wants to take us further, into a world where everything is so textualized that there is no space left for the real." We preferred to understand deconstruction through laborious readings of Being and Time and Beyond Good and Evil, not in watery effusions about textuality or the mechanical pairing of binary oppositions. The latter we placed among the scribes, those well-intentioned professionals canny enough to recognize the broad import of deconstruction, but not acute enough to discern the real meaning of différance or the radical disclosure of the ontic-ontological difference. The genius of philosophy, we thought, lay in plumbing the fundamental habits of cognition, like Hegel breaking down sense certainty and Heidegger questioning the determination of Being as substance. Exegesis of other texts was a lesser activity, though we acknowledged exceptions such as Starobinski's book on Rousseau and Kojève's lectures on The Phenomenology of Spirit.Lower in our rankings were the quasi-Leftist attacks just emerging, such as Frank Lentricchia's Criticism and Social Change, which cast theorists as mandarin functionaries treating interpretation as an apolitical game. They filled the page with spiteful terms like "the mask of pure reason" and righteous declarations like "it is wrong to claim that you are above politics," spurning argument for the rhetoric of the reformer. We diagnosed them as puny reactions to the Reagan Revolution, carried out on the irrelevant ground of literary theory. Philosophically, Lentricchia was a hack, and we rejected the imputation that theory nullified activism and justified the status quo. Not that we thought theory bred activism. We just considered them separate activities, and saw no determinate connection between hermeneutical stance and party affiliation. However, we accepted the elitist charge. How could ambitious academics avoid elitism? It wasn't hard for graduate students struggling on $900 a month to see that populist attitudes didn't suit the tenured Ivy Leaguer. Professors were paid by exclusive institutions to teach poetry, to write letters for the best and brightest, to run recondite journals and jet to prestigious symposia. We wanted to join them, but not with phony expressions of social injustice that targeted theory as the problem.Allied with the political attacks on theory, and esteemed even lower, were critiques of the humanities as a bastion of high culture. Polemics [End Page 416] such as Andrew Ross's No Respect: Intellectuals and Popular Culture treated... (shrink)