Tom Stoppard’s “Travesties.”  Why revolutions inevitably fail.  Making a mockery of Lenin, Joyce and Tzara.

 Tom Stoppard’s Travesties.

Why revolutions inevitably fail.

Making a mockery of Lenin, Joyce and Tzara.

Burton Weltman

“You say you want a revolution.”

The Beatles

Some travesties from Travesties.

Vladmir Lenin on Communism: “We shall establish a free press,” that is, one that promotes only Bolshevik propaganda.  And he dons a blonde wig as he hopes to sneak into Russia disguised as a Swedish deaf mute.[1]

James Joyce on modern art: “An artist is a magician” who conjures reality from his imagination. And he pulls a rabbit out of a hat.[2]

Tristan Tzara on Dadaist counter-culturalism: “To a Dadaist, history comes out of a hat.”  And he pulls random words from a hat to make what he calls poetry.[3]

Henry Carr on revolution: “According to Marx, the dialectic of history will get you to much the same place with or without Lenin.”  Revolution is irrelevant.  And he tells Lenin “You’re nothing. You’re an artist.”[4]

History as Travesty.

What if truth is travesty?  A travesty is defined as a distorted representation or absurd imitation of something.  It is not, however, necessarily a complete falsehood or fraud.  There may be some truth and some value wrapped up in the silliness.  Good sense may lie in the midst of nonsense. 

Tom Stoppard’s play Travesties[5] is a travesty of a travesty of a travesty.  Published in 1974, Travesties is a fictional take on the factual coincidence of Vladmir Lenin, James Joyce and Tristan Tzara – erstwhile revolutionaries in politics, literature, and counterculture, respectively – having all resided in Zurich, Switzerland in early 1917, along with a minor British diplomat named Henry Carr.  It was a chance confluence of the three iconoclasts that is seen in the play through the unreliable eyes of a fictional version of Carr.

In real life during 1917, Lenin, Joyce and Tzara were busy making revolutionary breakthroughs in their respective fields.  Lenin was finishing the publication of his book on Imperialism, and he was belatedly taking off for Russia to try to take control of a political revolution that he had not thought possible.  Joyce was working on Ulysses, an esoteric stream of consciousness novel of a revolutionary kind.  And Tzara was promoting an anti-art performance art and a revolutionary nihilism.  Lenin, Joyce and Tzara were also leading figures in erstwhile revolutionary movements – Communism, modernism, and dadaism, respectively – and each took his revolutionary work very seriously.  The play makes a travesty of their work.

Travesties is itself a travesty of a play.  It presents what are ostensibly the memories of Carr who as an old man, seemingly around 1974 when the play was written, is recalling his time in Zurich during 1917.  Carr as he is portrayed in the play bears no resemblance to the real Carr.  The real Carr was a dignified gentleman.  In the play, the young Carr behaves bizarrely, and the aged Carr is senile and filled with delusions of grandiosity.  He is a travesty of Carr.

Carr’s memories in the play are, in turn, befuddled and distorted.  He makes ridiculous claims of having influenced Lenin, Joyce and Tzara in their revolutionary work.  His self-importance rivals that of the three revolutionaries, who themselves pompously fret and strut through the play.  Carr’s memories are also wildly inconsistent.  He will, for example, sometimes remember Lenin as a reasonable, highly cultured person and other times claim Lenin was an ignorant, ideologically rigid boor. The memories make for a travesty of a memoir.

Carr’s memories are also garbled – effectively a stream of consciousness – so that the play randomly jumps around in time and subject matter.  One minute, for example, people will be discussing politics, and the next minute, without any transition, they will be kissing each other.  It makes for a travesty of a drama.  Finally, the words and actions of Lenin, Joyce and Tzara that Carr claims to remember are distorted images of things they actually said and did.  Sometimes they make sense, other times are mere gibberish.  His memories are a travesty of history. 

In sum, Stoppard has made a travesty of a play which presents a travesty of an old man’s memories which make a travesty of actual history.  The whole thing is very clever and very funny.  There are also, I think, some serious messages implicit in the comic chaos, especially pertaining to the illusory nature of revolutions and the illusions of revolutionaries.  Stoppard has, I think, made a travesty of Lenin, Joyce and Tzara because he thinks the three would-be revolutionaries and their works were themselves travesties.  Using stream of silly consciousness techniques that parody Joyce, making a farce of everything as Tzara does, and mocking Lenin’s political theories, the play implies that revolutions inevitably fail and invariably become travesties of themselves.  That is a heavy load of meaning for a light-hearted play, but I think it is so.  The purpose of this essay is to explain that conclusion. 

The Plot: Not a lot.

There is very little plot to Travesties.  The fictionalized Carr is the central character.  Given that the play is made up of his memories, everyone and everything revolves around him.  The play is essentially a running debate of Carr with Lenin, Joyce and Tzara, with several minor characters occasionally chiming in.  The debate is unfocused and consists of seemingly random streams of serious arguments alternating with silly nonsense.  Characters sometimes espouse well-reasoned and well-articulated positions, but oftentimes lapse into non sequitur arguments and gibberish.

The opening scene exemplifies the nonsense that permeates the play.  It is like a scene from a Marx Brothers movie.  Lenin, Joyce and Tzara are writing in the Zurich library.  Lenin is writing quietly.  Joyce is dictating to a secretary with her repeating his words, seemingly in order to get them right.  “Deshil holles eamus,” he says and she repeats it. “Thrice,” he orders her to write it.  Then he says “Send us bright one, light one, Horhorn quickening and wombfruit,” and she repeats it.  “Thrice,” he again orders.  “Hoopsa, boyaboy, hoopsa,” he says and she repeats it.

Meanwhile, Tzara is randomly pulling words from a hat and reciting as poetry what he has made that way.  “Clara avuncular! Whispers ill oomparah! Eel nus dairy day Appletzara…Hat!,” he intones.  To the play’s audience, Tzara’s random words seem the same as Joyce’s chosen words.

Lenin’s wife suddenly barges in proclaiming in Russian that a revolution has begun in Russia.  They converse at length in Russian, which, like the recitations of Joyce and Tzara, makes no sense to the audience.   Joyce, meanwhile, begins to recite nonsense phrases that are written on pieces of paper that he randomly pulls from his pocket.  “Morose delectation…Acquinas turnbelly…Frateporcospino,” Joyce recites.  What he is doing looks and sounds exactly like what Tzara had been doing.    

Joyce then picks up a piece of paper that he thinks is his and recites “Lickspittle – capitalist – lackeys – of imperialism.”  This seems to be not unlike the nonsense Joyce has previously been reciting.  It is, however, Lenin’s paper and when Lenin recognizes the words as his, he reclaims the paper from Joyce.[6]  And so it goes.  All three of them are babbling gibberish that each of them thinks is of earthshattering importance.

Sense is, however, often mixed with nonsense in the play.  In the running arguments that constitute the gist of the play, Lenin presents a Marxist political analysis that is sometimes cogent, other times mere dogma.  Joyce displays a literary pedantry that is sometimes fresh, other times lugubrious gobbledygook.   Tzara performs anti-art antics that are sometimes clever, other times mere juvenility.  Each of them comes up against Carr’s conventional views of politics, literature and art.  It makes for a head-turning intellectual round robin. 

Compounding the intellectual tumult, each of the four main characters sporadically espouses one of the others’ positions instead of his own.  Carr speaking like Lenin, Tzara speaking like Joyce, and so forth.  The dialogue in the play also alternates among the rhetorical styles of the four main characters.  Sometimes they all speak in Lenin’s stentorian voice, and at other times in Joyce’s stream of obscure references, Tzara’s cascade of nonsense, or Carr’s bland incomprehension. 

Adding further to the confusion, the play periodically goes through a “time slip” in which the action goes back to a previous point in the play and the characters begin their discussions again, but often taking stances different than the ones they had taken the first time around.  

Compounding the fictional chaos, Travesties incorporates an actual absurd event that resonates through the play.  An amateur performance of Oscar Wilde’s The Importance of Being Ernest was produced in Zurich around this time.  It was produced by Joyce, and Carr played a leading role in it.  The performance apparently came off well, but Carr subsequently sued Joyce for the cost of some pants that were ruined during the performance, and Joyce countersued Carr over a small sum of money for unsold tickets to the play that Joyce thought he was owed by Carr.  Absurd, but actual fact.  Actual fact that supports the absurdity of the fiction.

Finally, as another addition to the unreality in Travesties, the play mimics and mocks The Importance of Being Ernest.  Like Wilde’s play, Stoppard’s is full of impersonations, double-identities, misunderstandings, and misdirection.  More significantly, the characters in Travesties sometimes take up the names and play the roles of characters in The Importance of Being Ernest as though the Wilde play is reality and 1917 Zurich is imaginary.  It is absurd, but that seems to be the point.  Reality is absurd, but not necessarily meaningless.

Some Historical Context: What is to be done and undone?

Travesties is a historical play and a play on history.  Lenin, Joyce and Tzara were leading representatives of important movements – Communism, cultural modernism, and counter-cultural dadaism, respectively – that were burgeoning in 1917.  The three men and their movements subsequently had profound effects on twentieth-century history, effects that resonate today. The co-residence in Zurich of these three erstwhile revolutionaries is a remarkable historical coincidence.  Stoppard has, I think, taken advantage of that coincidence to comment on the nature of the revolutionary work being undertaken in 1917 by Lenin, Joyce and Tzara, the nature of the revolutionary movements they represented, and the nature of revolution itself.

I think, in turn, that understanding the play requires some sense of the history of Communism, modernism and counter-culturalism, particularly from the viewpoint of 1917 when the play takes place and the viewpoint of 1974 when the play was written and when Carr is supposedly remembering the events of 1917.  The contrast between the two viewpoints is significant.  From the vantage point of 1917, one could think that things looked bad in the present but hopeful for the future.  The revolutionary work being done by the likes of Lenin, Joyce and Tzara, and the movements they represented, could seem promising.  But from the vantage point of 1974, one could conclude that the work of each of them and their movements had failed.   

I think that Stoppard’s portrayal of the three revolutionaries reflects the historical failure of their movements at the time he wrote Travesties.  As Lenin, Joyce and Tzara are portrayed in the play, Communism, modernism and counter-culturalism began as travesties that seemingly prefigured their degraded ends.  What follows is my sense of the history of those movements that I think provides context for the meaning and messaging of the play.

Communism.  From the vantage point of early 1917, Communism seemed to be a pipe dream and the idea of a Communist revolution in Russia seemed absurd.  Even Lenin said so. 

But World War I had changed many things.  It was a war that wasn’t supposed to happen.  For one hundred years since the defeat of Napolean in 1815, there had been localized wars and revolutionary uprisings, but no major wars or major revolutions in Europe.  The nineteenth and early twentieth centuries were widely celebrated, at least by the ruling classes, as an era of pragmatic and relatively peaceful evolutionary progress.  The gradual democratizing of most governments, the growing wealth of capitalist countries, and the burgeoning economic ties among countries, all seemed to mitigate any major war or revolution.   

World War I smashed that reformist dream and opened the door to revolutionary movements of both the Left in the form of Communism and the Right in the form of fascism and Nazism.  On all sides, the so-called Whig theory of history as a process of gradual and inevitable progress was rejected, and cataclysmic theories of the rise and fall of societies took hold.  And the revolutionary trend of the times was now widely seen as part of a historical cycle of alternating reform and revolution that went back at least to the ancient Greeks. 

From the viewpoint of 1917, Lenin’s life could be seen as an ideal preparation for the revolutionary moment of that year.  He was the progeny of a revolutionary family, and his brother had been executed for trying to assassinate the Tzar.  Lenin had, in turn, written in 1902 a handbook on revolution aptly called What is to Be Done?.  His book was one of the first to take socialist theory and create something of a blueprint for revolutionary practice. 

In What is to Be Done?. Lenin explained his opposition to the large-scale mass socialist political parties and the evolutionary socialist theories and practices that had prevailed to that time within the socialist movement in Russia and most other countries.  His book called for a small disciplined elite cadre of revolutionists to control the Communist movement, and ultimately to lead a putschist takeover of the government in the name of the masses.      

Lenin’s militant views precipitated a split within the Russian Socialist Party between those promoting militant revolution and those favoring gradual evolution.  This split came to a head at the party’s convention in 1903.  A majority of the members at the convention supported the gradualist position but the militants were persistent.  Debate went on all day and far into the night, intentionally prolonged by Lenin’s followers.  Eventually, adherents of the moderate position got tired and started leaving.   At that point, Lenin’s followers called for a vote and they had a majority of the remaining delegates on their side.  Their views were adopted. 

Following the vote at this convention, Lenin’s elitist militants began calling themselves Bolsheviks, which means majority in Russian.  They, in turn, called the more popular moderates by the dismissive term Mensheviks, which means minority.  And even though the moderates were at all times a majority of the Russian socialists, the names stuck and the moderates had to accept being called Mensheviks.  It was a farcical but ominous turn of events.

Despite his militant views, Lenin thought that Russia was not ripe for a Communist revolution in the early twentieth century.  Russia was still a dictatorial monarchy with a predominantly peasant economy and only a small industrial capitalist sector.  Marx had said that a country was not ripe for Communism until it was highly industrialized with a large well-organized mass of urban industrial workers.  So, Lenin thought, the revolution would have to await this development.

In early 1917, Lenin confirmed this position with the publication of his book Imperialism: The Highest Stage of Capitalism which foretold a long period of international capitalist development.  Lenin even told a group of his supporters at this time that he would not live to see a revolution in Russia, and that they would have to carry on his work after him. 

These were famous last words, as they say.  Some four weeks after making this prediction, revolution broke out in Russia and Lenin rushed home hoping to take control of events.  Ironically, just as Lenin was successfully engineering a communist revolution in Russia, his book denying the possibility of what he was doing was being published.  It is this farcical turn of events that Travesties portrays, and that is reflected in the history of Russian Communism as seen from the vantage point of 1974

From the vantage point of 1974, Communism in Russia and elsewhere had degenerated from utopian hopes of a freely cooperative society – a society in which, Karl Marx had claimed, “the self-development of each will be the basis for the development of all” – into an oppressively bureaucratic reality in which individuals were treated as mere cogs in a social machine.

Russian Communism had gone through several stages.  There had been the relatively liberal stage of the New Economic Policy during the early to mid-1920’s.  In this period, small farms and businesses continued to be privately owned and operated as in the past, and only large industry and finance were nationalized.  Modern ideas of education and modernist culture flourished fairly freely. 

This stage was followed by the harshly repressive Stalinist period beginning in the late 1920’s.  Stalin nationalized virtually all of the country’s farms and businesses, centralized almost all economic and social activities, and repressed cultural freedom.  Following Stalin’s death in 1954, Russia seemed to be moving backward toward its old regime.  It had seemingly revolved from an oppressive dictatorial and stodgily bureaucratic Tzarist regime in 1917 to an oppressive dictatorial and stodgily bureaucratic Communist regime in 1974.  Leonid Brezhnev ruled in place of Tzar Nicholas, but the more things had changed, the more many of them seemed the same.     

From the vantage point of early 2022, as I am writing this essay, Communism has almost everywhere either been overthrown in favor of a degenerate capitalism as in Russia, or morphed into a cut-throat capitalism as in China.  And virtually all of the formerly Communist countries have authoritarian political regimes.  Russia seems politically to have almost completed a historical circle back to where it was in 1917.  With the end of Communism in 1990, a fledgling democracy seemed to be emerging, but this has turned into a virtual kleptocracy and fledgling autocracy.  Russian President Vladmir Putin is acting essentially like a Tzar and openly calling for the restoration of the Tzarist Russian empire. Almost a full political circle from 1917 to 2022.     

Modernism.  Modernism is a broad term that can be used to encompass many different cultural theories and practices, almost too many to be meaningful.  There are, however, some common tendencies which one can see in cultural works that are deemed modernist and which validate the use of the term.  These include an emphasis on subjectivity and individual introspection, a psychological approach to events and phenomenological approach to experience, and a desire to deal with uncommon things and create unconventional works.  “Make it new” Ezra Pound had proclaimed, and the goal of modernists has generally been to promote a permanent revolution of perpetual novelty. 

Modernism in literature and art developed in the late nineteenth century and around the turn of the twentieth century as a rejection of mid to late nineteenth century Realism.  Realists sought to be objective and to take a social and sociological view of things.  They focused on common and concrete realities and emphasized a scientific approach to the world.  Whereas novelty was the goal of modernists, the ordinary was the specialty of realists.  This conflict between Realists and Modernists was part of a recuring cycle of cultural conflict between realism and rationality, on the one hand, and imagination and emotion, on the other, going back to the Ancient Greeks.    

Realism had itself developed as a rejection of early nineteenth century Romanticism that had emphasized subjectivity and emotionality.  Realists deemed the Romantics to be shallow sentimentalists who smeared a soppy gloss on the hard realities of the world and, thereby, disguised the truth of things.  Romanticism had, in turn, begun as a rejection of the eighteenth-century Enlightenment, with its emphasis on rationality and empiricism, an approach that the Romantics deemed to be cold and lifeless.  And so on…

From the vantage point of 1917, James Joyce was an arch type of the modernist.  And I think you can see the evolution of modernism in the succession of his most famous works.  Joyce went from the accessible A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, published in 1916, to the semi-accessible Ulyssus, published in 1922, to the completely inaccessible Finnegan’s Wake, published in 1939.  Joyce’s evolution, or devolution, was similar to that of his predecessor Henry James.  James was a pioneer of modernism whose career started with comprehensible social novels but ended with incomprehensible internal monologues.  Joyce, like James and much of the modernist movement, went so far in the direction of subjectivism as to become nearly solipsistic.  In so doing, serious modernist works became inaccessible and alien to most people. 

From the vantage point of 1974, modernism had seemingly developed in two contradictory ways.  In its high art forms, it had become increasingly abstruse and inaccessible.  In its low art forms, it had largely become frivolous, been coopted by consumerism, and devolved into faddism. 

In more pretentious forms of consumerism, modernism posed as “camp” art, exemplified by the works of Andy Warhol and his paintings of Campbell’s soup cans.  In less grandiose forms, modernism became a gimmick to sell consumer goods.  Always seeking new things to sell to a gullible public, manufacturers continually changed the styles of their consumer goods so as to encourage people to throw out their old things and buy new ones, even though the old ones might still be perfectly useable. 

Clothes manufacturers would, for example, change the size of the lapel on shirts and jackets, just slightly, but just enough so that people would feel uncomfortable and out of-place wearing their old clothes.  The idea of cultural revolution became an advertising ploy.  In the early 1970’s, all sorts of consumer products, from autos to underwear, were being advertised as “revolutionary,” although only the hyperbole was exceptional.  It was a travesty of a cultural revolution.

From our vantage point today in 2022, modernism has largely been superseded among the cultural elite in the United States by so-called postmodernism.  Postmodernists widely promote a complete relativism in culture, ethics and politics.  They hold that everything is subjective, and that there are no standards or common frames of reference among people, only individual tastes and individual views.  It is a philosophy that is essentially rooted in solipsism, in everyone for and by oneself.  With their off-putting rhetoric and anything-goes philosophy, postmodernists have alienated themselves from the general public.

Postmodernism has also provoked an archconservative cultural backlash that postmodernists have difficulty in resisting, since they don’t believe in cultural standards that would enable them to reject the archconservatives for violating those standards, and since they believe that any opinion is justified no matter how ignorant and off-base it is.  In this context, the gibberish of the characters in Travesties seems prophetic.   

Counter-culturalism.  Counter-culturalism has been a significant aspect of Western society going back to the Ancient Greeks.  Cycles of conformity and radical nonconformity have recurred throughout Western history.  Adherence to honesty and abhorrence of hypocrisy have generally been the central tenets of counter-culturalists.  In Travesties, for example, Tzara insists that the only worthwhile question about anything is “Is it a true thing.”[7]  Naked reality, stripped of all obfuscations, was the goal.

Among the first counter-culturalists was the Ancient Greek Diogenes the Cynic, who is sometimes called the first hippie.  Diogenes was a street performer who acted up and acted out his rejection of social norms.  A nihilist who rejected all conventionalities as false and fraudulent, Diogenes lived in the streets and supposedly slept in a barrel.  He wandered around, often naked, with the ostensible aim of finding an honest man and never finding one. 

Tradition has it that Alexander the Great greatly admired Diogenes and coming upon Diogenes in the streets one day promised that whatever Diogenes wished for most in the world, Alexander would give him.  Diogenes supposedly replied that he wished Alexander would move aside and stop blocking the sunlight. 

Historically, counter-culturalism has been more of an ethical than an artsy movement.  Counter-culturalists eschewed art and literature as it was practiced in conventional ways and measured by conventional standards.  They made, instead, so-called anti-art art and unliterary literature.  Valuing honesty above all else, they insisted on returning to a supposedly more natural way of life.  It was a tradition that was carried on by the so-called Bohemians in the nineteenth century and advanced by Tzara and his fellow Dadaists in the early twentieth century.

From the vantage point of 1917, Tzara’s Dadaism was a reaction against World War I.  Dadaists denounced the fraudulence of conventional prewar beliefs that war had become impossible, and the fraudulent prowar propaganda that promoted World War I as a war to end all wars.  Dadaists excoriated these beliefs as nonsense that could be combatted only with more nonsense.  They claimed that nihilism – a rejection of all conventionalities and a cult of nonsense – were the only ways to shed hypocrisy, promote honesty, and achieve a natural life.

Dada was performance art, mainly spontaneous and aimed at upsetting the audience.  Epater le bourgeoisie – sticking it to the middle class – was the aim.  Melees often disrupted and ended Dadaist performances.  Travesty was their method and their goal.  

From the vantage point of 1974, Tzara’s career could be seen as an example of why counter-cultural revolutions fail to achieve their goals.  Tzara went from one counter-cultural style to another but eventually ended up joining with Communists to oppose the rise of fascism and Nazism in Europe.  Originally an anti-war activist, he went to Spain in the mid-1930’s to help the Republicans fight against Franco and the Spanish fascists.  Tzara later joined the French Resistance during World War II to fight against the Nazis.  It was an ironic turn of events for a pacifist and anarchist.  But it was arguably a principled response to the unsustainability of nihilism as a humanistic theory and practice in the face of radical evil.  Tzara’s nihilism had disguised an underlying idealism that came to the fore when push came to shove.

From the vantage point of 1974, one could see many counter-culturalists who displayed fewer principles than Tzara when pushed by reality.  The gist of the Dadaists’ politically oriented performance art was carried forward during the mid-twentieth century by Abbie Hoffman and Jerry Rubin who were leaders of the Yippie movement.  In one of their most heralded actions, Hoffman and Rubin proclaimed their intent to levitate the Pentagon as part of a large anti-Vietnam War protest in October of 1967.  After a whole lot of hoopla and chanting, the Pentagon stayed put, the protest was broken up by soldiers with fixed bayonets, and the war went on.  By 1974, when Travesties was published, Hoffman was dealing in illegal drugs and Rubin was dealing in speculative stocks.  A travesty of Tzara’s counter-cultural nihilism as idealism. 

From the vantage point of 2022, counter-culturalism has largely disappeared in the United States and Europe.  Nihilism has, in turn, degenerated from the euphoric idealism of the Dadaists and has been adopted by violent extremists on the Left and even more on the Right.  In January, 2021, as an example, then President Trump and his right-wing nihilist allies tried to overthrow the government of the United States.  Primarily motivated by racial fears and religious bigotry, and operating within a nihilist might-makes-right mentality, Trump and his extremist supporters reject the democratic conventionalities and established civic norms of the country. 

The former President and his fascistic followers seek to impose an authoritarian regime on the United States that would protect their privileged place in the social order.  Winning is everything for them and democratic processes are acceptable only so long as they win with them.  As of this writing in early 2022, Trump and his supporters are still active and seem to be actively planning their next attempt at a right-wing revolution.  Making a travesty of America. 

The Problem with Revolution: To revolve is to return to your starting place.

What goes around comes around, as the saying goes.  Revolution is an ill-fitting term to use in describing the progressive political, cultural and social changes sought by Lenin, Joyce and Tzara.  To revolve means to go around and come back to where you started.  To make a revolution is, by definition, ultimately to get nowhere. 

The idea of revolution was invented by ancient astronomers to apply to the rotations of the planets that ostensibly circled around the earth, and that ended each year back where they had started.  The word was also applied by engineers to the circular movements of a wheel.  A revolution was to move away from a starting point and then circle back to it again. 

The first uses of the word to mean radical political change date from the late 1300’s and early 1400’s when the goal of change was to restore things to the way they had supposedly been.  The dominant theory of history and social change at that time was that humankind and human society had deteriorated from an ideal past.  From the Ancient Greeks through the Middle Ages in Europe, the ideal was deemed to have been in the past, the present was invariably corrupted. 

In this context, the aim of a political revolution was to go back – to revolve – to a better past and not to construct something novel in the present.  When, for example, monarchs were overthrown, the justification was that the king had been deviating from traditional practices.  The idea was to get rid of a king who was exceeding his rightful powers and restore the realm to its rightful ancient ways, thereby making the good old days real again.

The theory of an ideal past and corrupted present was challenged during the Renaissance and the Enlightenment.  Ideas of progressive social change developed.  The new theory was that things have been and should be getting better over time.  These ideas took time to take hold, and the old and new meanings of social change coexisted and conflicted for several centuries.

The idea that a political revolution meant returning to a better past was the primary theory and motivation of the revolutions of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.  This view was the basis for the English Civil War of the mid-seventeenth century and both the American Revolution and the French Revolution of the late-eighteenth century.  In each case, the revolutionaries claimed that kings were overstepping their legitimate bounds, and that the revolutionaries wanted to restore previously existing rights to the populous.  In each case, more radical revolutionaries came to the fore in the course of the revolution.  They changed the course of the thing in mid-stream and experimented with new social norms and forms.  In the end, however, these novel ideas were eventually rejected and things reversed course back toward where they had started.  In sum, a revolution.

It was in the nineteenth century that the idea of making social progress through radical political change emerged and it was given the ill-fitting name of revolution.  It is ill-fitting because the idea of a progressive political revolution is a contradiction in terms.  Modern revolutionaries generally want to make things new, and not return to some prior system.  But, while the term revolution doesn’t fit with what most revolutionaries want, it does, unfortunately for them, fit with what they mostly achieve.  Which is not a lot.  Political revolutions almost invariably fail to achieve the aims of the revolutionaries.  They have, instead, an invariable tendency to revolve from one stage to another and eventually return close to their starting points. 

While any progressive action is likely to provoke a regressive reaction, revolutions generally fail to achieve their aims because they go too far too fast and provoke a particularly intense backlash.  There is a pattern to progressive revolutions.  They go first to the left, getting increasingly radical as more extremist revolutionists gain momentum and moderates are overwhelmed, but then they go back to the right, as a backlash turns things around.  In the end, they have generally achieved something, but not what they intended, and little that couldn’t have been achieved with less drastic and less destructive methods.  Revolutions generally are travesties.

Examples of this pattern include the English Civil War and Commonwealth (1640-1660) and the French Revolution and Empire (1789-1815), both of which were revolts to get rid of monarchies and ended up with monarchies.  The American Revolution and Constitution (1775-1789) was a revolt against a strong central government that interfered with the colonies and ended up with a strong central government that interfered with the states.[8]  The Communist revolutions in Russia (1917-1990) and China (1948 – Present) were revolts against capitalism and authoritarianism that ended up with capitalism and authoritarianism.  In each case, the revolts went through radically democratic and egalitarian phases before relapsing into a revised form of the old order.

In sum, political revolutions generally go too far too fast, which results in collapse, and then relapse into variations of the old order.  They get rid of so much of the old order that they end up without a foundation for a new order, nothing to build upon.  I think that this same pattern holds for most cultural and counter-cultural revolutions as well.  And I think that idea is implicit as a lesson of Travesties.

The Moral of the Story.

Travesties closes with a conversation between Carr as an old man and his wife.  She has been dispelling Carr’s recollections of Zurich as exaggerations.  She points out inconsistencies within his memories, and between his memories and the facts, and makes fun of his claims to have influenced Lenin, Joyce and Tzara.  At one point, Carr claims that if had wanted, he could have kept Lenin from leaving Zurich for Russia and, thereby, would have forestalled the Communist revolution.  He says that he didn’t do it because he liked Lenin and was distracted by other events.  His wife responds that Carr was only a low-level official and never had that kind of authority.  In any case, she says, he never even met Lenin in Zurich.

Carr has to concede point by point that his wife is right and that his vainglorious recollections are wrong.  Nonetheless, no sooner has he made his final concession to her than he recycles back to his exaggerated memories, claiming to have known “spies, exiles, painters, poets, writers, radicals of all kinds.  I knew them all.”  And he closes the play by announcing that he had learned three things from that time. They are “Firstly, you’re either a revolutionary or you’re not, and if you’re not you might as well be an artist as anything else. Secondly, if you can’t be an artist, you might as well be a revolutionary…I forgot the third thing.”[9]

These lessons that Carr claims he has learned from his time in Zurich form a fitting farcical finale for the play.  The first two lessons conflate revolutionaries and artists which, as exemplified by the characters in Travesties, makes a travesty of both.  The first two lessons also contradict each other.  The first implies that you cannot make yourself into a revolutionary.  You either have or have not been made that way by circumstances.  If you haven’t, then you should become an artist. 

But the second lesson implies that you cannot make yourself into an artist.  You either have or have not been made that way by circumstances.  If you haven’t, then you should make yourself into a revolutionary.  But you can’t do that according to the first lesson.  Carr’s first two lessons, thereby, constitute a contradiction that keeps revolving around back to itself and is a travesty of logic.  Given this illogic of Carr’s first two lessons and the fact that he has altogether forgotten the third, one must conclude that Carr didn’t learn anything from his experiences.  But maybe we can.

On its face, the play could be seen as a sendup of history as just a meaningless bunch of distorted memories.  I think, however, that the message is just the opposite.  It is that even with a bunch of distorted memories you can glean some important truths.  And the underlying truth in Travesties, the moral of the story, is, I think, that if you go to vainglorious revolutionary extremes, you should expect to make a fool of yourself and to see your efforts end in travesty. 

Lenin, Joyce and Tzara went to revolutionary extremes in their work and in the long run the movements they promoted became travesties of themselves.  Carr went to personal extremes in trying to build himself up as an important person in his memoir and he made a travesty of his memories.  Stoppard went to artistic extremes in his portrait of these people and made a travesty of a play.  But his play is still meaningful.

Stoppard wrote Travesties at a time of significant historical turmoil, during the political and cultural rebellions of the 1960’s and early 1970’s in Western society.  I think his portrayal of Lenin, Joyce, and Tzara reflects his take on the would-be revolutionaries and revolutions of that time.  The revolutionary posturing of the Weathermen, the counter-cultural exhibitionism of the hippies, the nihilistic antics of the Yippies, were making a travesty of progressive social and cultural movements in the United States.  Similar movements flourished in other countries.  The play was, I think, a reflection and a critical commentary on the times in which it was written.  The relevance of the play for us stems, in turn, from the results and residue of those movements, and the consequences of similar movements today.

                                                                                                                        BW 1/2022 


[1] Tom Stoppard. Travesties.  New York: Grove Press, 2017. P.74.

[2] Ibid. P.53.

[3] Ibid. Pp.3-4, 73.

[4] Ibid. Pp.72-73.

[5] Tom Stoppard. Travesties.  New York: Grove Press, 2017.

[6] Ibid. Pp. 3-7.

[7] Ibid. P.46.

[8] For a discussion of why and how the American Revolution failed to achieve its goals, I have a series of essays on “Was the American Revolution a Mistake?” posted on this website

[9] Ibid. P.90.

Individualism v. Individuality. Coming of Age in Young Adult Literature. Kathryn Laskey’s Dreams in the Golden Country and Elizabeth Acevedo’s The Poet X.

Individualism v. Individuality.

Coming of Age in Young Adult Literature.

Kathryn Laskey’s Dreams in the Golden Country

And Elizabeth Acevedo’s The Poet X.

Burton Weltman

Individualism and Individuality in Coming-of-Age Literature.

Adolescence is a turbulent time of changes for young people in our society.  Coming-of-age literature tries to provide role models and exemplary situations to help guide young people through the changes.  The genre is diverse but one of the ways I think it can usefully be categorized is between stories that promote self-development through individualism and stories that promote self-development through individuality.  The difference is between emphasizing self-centeredness versus emphasizing social-centeredness, “me” versus “we.”  I think that the former emphasis is harmful, the latter helpful.  The purpose of this essay is to discuss that thesis.

“Individualism” is a popular word in the American lexicon.  The word is almost as ubiquitous as apple pie in describing American culture.  But I think that the practice of individualism is not so widespread as the word, and that people often misuse the word and misconstrue the idea when what they really mean is individuality.  The confusion is unfortunate because I think that individuality is actually the attitude that best describes the core of American morals and mores.

E pluribus unum, “from many one,” was adopted by the Founders as the motto of the United States.  The motto espouses the idea of individuality, of each individual and group making their particular contribution to the whole, and of unity through diversity.  Although Congress made “In God we Trust” the country’s official motto in 1956, E pluribus unum remains the unofficial motto and, I believe, the actual credo of the country.  And this is the case despite the widespread use of the word “individualism” to describe the American way.

Confusion between the ideas of individualism and individuality is not surprising.  Both words stem from the same root word “individual,” and the two words look similar.  They also have overlapping implications.  Both emphasize the importance of the individual, the uniqueness of each individual, and the goal of individual self-development.  As a result, many people use the words interchangeably and conflate their meanings.  But they are not interchangeable in their underlying message as to how to respect individuals and promote individual self-development. 

Individualism implies that people are self-made and self-sufficient.  The word also implies that people are in continual competition with others, as they try to establish their individual identities against other people and elevate themselves above the group.  Individualism is a theory and practice that emphasizes the precariousness of a person’s identity.  In a regime of individualism, people are inevitably insecure as each struggles against the others for position. 

Individuality implies a very different ethos, and it is the ethos that in practice has historically been predominant in America.  Individuality implies interdependence and that you are a product of interaction with others.  It also implies cooperating with others as you try to establish your identity with them and make your unique contribution to the group.  An interdependent society that promotes individuality is inherently supportive.  And despite the pervasiveness of the idea of individualism in the United States, the reality is that people working together made the country.       

Confusing the concepts of individualism and individuality, and choosing to promote the idea of individualism over individuality, can have important psychological, social and political consequences.  This is especially the case when you are trying to reach and reassure insecure adolescents struggling through a period of change, and trying to teach them how to make their way in the world.  Promoting individualism exacerbates adolescents’ insecurity.  Promoting the theory and practice of individuality can help adolescents secure their individual identities and work in the world.  For these reasons, I think it is important for coming-of-age literature to distinguish between the two concepts and to promote individuality rather than individualism. 

In this essay, I discuss Elizabeth Acevedo’s The Poet X and Kathryn Laskey’s Dreams in the Golden Country as examples of coming-of-age novels that respectively promote individualism and individuality.  Both books have been highly acclaimed and widely assigned to middle and high school students.  Both address the difficulties of the adolescent stage of life, but with different emphases.  I think Laskey’s approach is better.

Coming of Age in Literature.

Every age is a transitional age, both in a person’s life and in the life of a society.  And in every age, it is always the best of times in some ways and the worst of times in others, with the key being to make the best of the times that you have been given.  In going through social transitions, we invariably look to other societies, past and present, as examples of the choices we might make in our current circumstances and what might be the consequences of making those choices.  Likewise, in going through personal changes, we invariably look to others for examples of how they tried to get through similar situations and how we might try to get through our own. 

Positive role models and negative examples can be found in both real life and fiction.  Although factual examples may be more persuasive, fictional examples may in some ways be preferable because they are constant and consistent.  They can never change from better to worse or disappoint.  This is the rationale for coming-of-age literature for adolescents.

Adolescence, a person’s teenage years, has become an important transitional stage in our society.  It is a turbulent period during which young people go through significant psychological and physiological changes, and are subject to significantly new behavioral expectations.  It is generally considered that gaining a personal identity is one of the main tasks of adolescents.[1]  Coming-of-age literature generally portrays young people struggling to gain a personal identity.

As adolescence has become a more clearly defined stage of personal development over the last one hundred years, adolescents have been encouraged by teachers and parents to read coming-of-age literature as a means of finding role models for their self-development.  As a result, literature for adolescents has become a booming business, especially over the past fifty years.  What was often previously considered an inferior form of literature produced by inferior writers has become a first-rate literary form produced by first-rate writers. 

One way of analyzing and evaluating coming-of-age literature is to distinguish between literature that promotes individualism as the means of gaining a personal identity and literature that instead promotes individuality.  The common starting point of almost all of this literature is the common complaints of almost every adolescent.  Almost every adolescent feels misunderstood, overlooked, mistreated, underestimated, and disrespected.  Almost every adolescent also feels that no one has ever been treated as badly as they are.  Given this starting point, the question is how should a coming-of-age novel try to direct these feelings toward a mature adulthood? 

Individualistic literature essentially goes with the flow of the egoism and self-centeredness that is a natural feature of adolescence.  Identity and maturity in these stories come through asserting yourself against others and society, essentially through power-tripping.  Literature that promotes individuality seeks, on the contrary, to counter and redirect self-centeredness toward cooperation and social-centeredness.  Identity and maturity come, in this view. through developing yourself in the course of working with others, and establishing a role for your unique self as a member of a group.  Sharing instead of controlling, and caring about yourself through caring for others, as a more productive way of getting through the adolescent stage of life.   

The Seven or Whatever Stages of Life. 

Humans have a penchant for seeing their lives and their societies as going through phases of development and decay, from birth to death, and sometimes thereafter.  People at different times have divided their social history into different stages of development.  And people in different societies have divided their lives into stages that reflect the circumstances of their times.  In this context, adolescence is a relatively new phrase and phase of human life.   

The character Jacques in Shakespeare’s As You Like It, for example, described what he called “the seven ages of man” as they appeared to Shakespeare in early seventeenth century England.  His stages were infant, school boy, lover, soldier, justice, old age, and second childhood, the last of which he described as “sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.” 

In his list of stages, and in particular with his stage of “school boy,” Jacques differed from the way young people had generally been seen before his time in medieval England.  In what we call the Middle Ages or the feudal stage of history, young people were generally seen as moving from the stage of childhood to the stage of adulthood in one fell swoop.  No “school boy” phase. 

Medieval children were generally treated as miniature adults who became full adults upon entering puberty.  In Shakespeare’s time, which today is generally called the Early Modern Period or early capitalist stage of history, Jacques added “school boy” as a stage between childhood and adulthood.  It is an addition that reflected the rise of elementary schooling for children as well as other social and economic developments in the early 1600’s.

That was not, however the end of it.  Since the late nineteenth century, during what we call the Modern Period or post-industrial stage of history, adolescence has been added as yet another stage between childhood and adulthood, as a transitional stage following Shakespeare’s school boy stage and preceding adulthood.  This new stage of development reflects a number of social, economic and psychological developments as well as the rise of secondary schooling and other formal training for young people beyond the elementary level. 

Adolescence is still a relatively new stage in our conception of human life, and there is still a lot of controversy about how to deal with it.  It is an age in which “Who am I?” and “What am I?” questions of personal identity are central concerns of young people.  And, according to psychologists such as Erik Erikson, the identities that young people develop during adolescence generally stay with them for the rest of their lives.  As such, how young people make their way through adolescence is important to them and to society.     

Coming-of-age novelists try to tune in to young people’s striving for personal identity, to their desire to differentiate themselves from their parents and distinguish themselves from their peers. They differ, however, on whether adolescents should strive to be independent of others or interdependent with them, and whether adolescents should be encouraged to stand up to others or stand with them.  The ethical and ideological choice is between promoting individualism and the cult of the individual versus promoting cooperation and the cultivation of individuality.

Popeye’s Problem: I am what I am but what am I?

I am what I am, and that’s all I am.”  So sayeth Popeye the Sailor Man before he downs a can of spinach and goes forth to pummel some bad guys.  With bulging forearms and enormous strength derived from consuming large quantities of spinach, Popeye was a popular comic strip super hero during the 1920’s, and a role model in right eating, thinking and acting for young people. 

A precursor of the superheroes that emerged during the Depression years of the 1930’s, Popeye shared a key trait with Superman and most other superheroes from then to the present day: he had a belief in himself as essentially a self-made and self-sufficient individual.  Popeye was his own man, an independent individualist, and there was no one on whom he depended. 

But Popeye still seemed to struggle with his personal identity.  We humans are seemingly among the few creatures on earth who are aware of ourselves as individuals.  We are, in turn, plagued by persistent existential questions as to who and what we are.  “I am what I am” was Popeye’s answer to the perplexing question of identity, which he repeated incessantly in an almost obsessive concern with reassuring himself and others that he was what he was, whatever that was. 

Popeye’s was, however, a self-defeating way of establishing his identity since it seemed to require a continual reassertion of himself against others in order to sustain a belief in himself.  Hence, Popeye’s almost compulsive need to find someone to punch.  Popeye was, in my estimation, a perpetual winner who was inherently a loser in the struggle to establish his identity.  He invariably defeated his foes and came out on top.  But he invariably then encountered new foes who threatened his identity.  His position was like that of the fast-draw gunslinger in conventional cowboy movies.  Someone was always challenging his position.  He could never by secure in his identity.

The mantra of the self-made man that Popeye represents was the product of a philosophical tradition dating back to the early 1600’s.  It was a function of the rise of modern capitalist society in Western societies and the development of an individualistic ethos that has infused Western societies since then.  Social, economic and political theories since then have almost invariably started with the isolated, independent individual and then tried to justify and explain the existence of society and its ways and means. 

This has been true of even most socialist and communitarian thinking, despite being a starting point that puts cooperative theories and practices at a disadvantage.  How do you have a cooperative society when your population is made up of ostensibly self-made and self-sufficient individuals?  It creates social, political and ethical dilemmas. 

The Ethics of Individuality and the Anxiety of Individualism.

There is an ontological dimension to the differences between individualism and individuality.  “I am what I am,” Popeye proclaims, but ontologically how does he know what he is?  I cannot know who or what I am by myself.  In order to get to a self-conscious awareness of myself as a person, I must be aware of others and of myself as one among others.  It is through comparing and contrasting myself with others that I get a sense of myself.  There is, therefore, no such thing as a self-made or self-sufficient person.  Without others, we have no identity.    

This ontological dimension of self-consciousness leads to an ethical difference between individualism and individuality.  In order to compare and contrast myself with others, I must recognize them as essentially the same as me and equal to me.  If these others are completely unlike me, then I cannot see myself in them to make a comparison.  If they are completely like me, then I cannot see myself as distinguished from them to make a contrast. 

In any case, I must first see the individuality of others in order to see myself as an individual.  And it is only from seeing others as unique individuals that I can establish my own individuality, that is, see myself as a unique “one” among a group of “many.”  Self-consciousness, that is, an ability to say “I” and actually know what I am talking about, requires respect for others.  In turn, respect for others is a catalyst for, and a measure of, my respect for myself.

It is from this circumstance, I believe, that what we refer to as the Golden Rule emerges as a statement of fact as well as an ethical ideal.  Almost every major religious and philosophical doctrine incorporates some version of the Golden Rule.  “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you if you were in their situation” and “Love thy neighbor as an extension of thyself” are common examples.  These statements are not merely ideal prescriptions but are also descriptions of reality.  The point is that the way we think of ourselves depends on how we think of others, and whether and to what extent we think of their well-being as well as our own. 

If we think of the well-being of others as connected with our own, we are likely to think well of ourselves.  If we disregard others’ well-being, we are likely to think poorly of ourselves.  In turn, the way we expect others to treat us depends largely on how we treat them.  If we treat others poorly, we are likely to expect them to treat us poorly, and they probably will.  If we treat them well, we are likely to expect the same from them and are more likely to be treated that way. 

Individualistic thinking generally disregards the well-being of others in favor of a competitive regard for oneself and for this reason, it fails both as a theory and as a practice.  It fails in theory because we cannot know ourselves or be ourselves without working with others. There is no such thing as a self-made person.  Our selves are made in conjunction with others.  The idea of individuality recognizes that fact and cultivates it.  The idea of individualism regrets it, denies it, and obfuscates the reality of human interdependence.

Individualism fails in practice because it promotes a never-rending competition against others as a result of which a person can never feel secure.  It is an ethos of anxiety.  Individualism pits people against each other and essentially encourages people to establish their identities by dominating others.  The problem is that if you base your identity on competitive success against others, then you can never be secure in your identity.  You are safe only until the next competitive encounter. 

If, for example, you base your identity on being the best in something – say being the best musician in the world based on winning virtuoso competitions – that identity is secure only until the next competition.  And there is always another competition and always someone coming at you to take your title and destroy your identity.  If, instead, you base your identity on being part of a symphony orchestra and making beautiful music together with others, then your identity is relatively secure, so long as you keep practicing.   

Individualism is a prescription for chronic insecurity and anxiety.  You are continually competing for power and position against others who are trying to exert their individualism and establish their identities through beating you.  Someone is always coming up trying to slam you from behind.  The anxiety inherent in an individualist ethos would seem to be among the last things you would want to promote in congenitally insecure adolescents. 

For these reasons, I think that coming-of-age literature that promotes individualistic rather than cooperative role models is harmful rather than helpful to adolescents.  The recent novel The Poet X by Elizabeth Acevedo is an example.

The Poet X: Cooperating with Others versus Competing against Them.

The Poet X by Elizabeth Acevedo is a critically acclaimed novel-in-verse.[2]  Published in 2018, it is a charming and cleverly composed book.  It has received many honors, including a National Book Award for Young People’s Literature.  The book is ostensibly the diary and the versifying of a teenage Latina girl in Harlem who comes of age in the novel as a champion poet.  The girl is seemingly presented as a role model for adolescent readers to emulate.  Her story is, however, an example of individualism triumphant.  And that is what concerns me.

The Backdrop of the Story.  The setup of the story in The Poet X is fairly conventional for coming-of-age literature.  It features a rebellious adolescent who is troublesome for her family and getting into trouble in school. The girl is an outsider and to some extent an outcast among her peers. She feels she is misunderstood and mistreated by her parents, teachers and peers alike. 

The setup is conventional but the execution is not, as the story is written largely in verse and has a heroine who is an emerging poet.  Her problems are typical of adolescents but the way she overcomes them is not.  She does it through poetry. That makes the book most interesting.

The girl, Xiomara or X for short, comes from a working-class family that has immigrated to the United States from the Dominican Republic.  Her father lives in the home but is essentially absent from the family life.  Her mother is an extremely strict Catholic who essentially runs the family and runs roughshod over her twin children, Xiomara and Xavier.  The mother works long hours cleaning an office building in Queens, a long way from her Harlem home.  She works hard to support her kids and expects them, in turn, to behave according to her standards.   

X is a big, strong, physically well-developed fifteen-year-old who is continually being sexually harassed by men and boys.  X’s twin brother Xavier, whom she calls Twin, is a nerd.  He is intellectually strong but physically weak, personally timid and socially inept.  X frequently comes to the rescue of her brother by fighting boys who harass him.  Shades of Popeye.

X is for the most part a loner with one close friend, a girl named Caridad.  X, Caridad and Twin hang out together.  While X is an inveterate troublemaker in school, in church and at home, Caridad is a goody-goody who is always trying to calm X down when X gets agitated.  Caridad advises X to follow the straight-and-narrow when X invariably strays off the conventional path.  But she is also attracted by X’s rebelliousness, admires it, and seemingly, thereby, reinforces it.   

X carries around a negative image of herself and a chip on her shoulder.  She continually complains that everyone wants her to be the way they want her to be, with no regard for what she actually is or might want to become, and they come down on her when she won’t or can’t comply with their demands.  She complains that “Mami [her mother] wants me to be her proper young lady.  Papi wants me to be ignorable and silent.  Twin and Caridad want me to be good so I don’t attract attention.  God just wants me to behave so I can earn being alive.  And what about me?  What about Xiomara?”[3]  In a typical lament of adolescents, X is essentially asserting Popeye’s mantra that she is what she is, and she wants others to recognize and accept that. 

In the course of the book, X tangles with almost everyone around her except for Twin and Caridad.  She fights with her mother over her mother’s efforts to control her and confine her to conventional behavior.  She is hectored by her father who is continually angry with her about anything and everything, especially her nonconformity.  She has crises of religious faith and argues with her priest. 

These are problems with which most adolescent readers can readily identify in their own quests for identity and respect, both self-respect and the respect of others.  In this book, almost all of them are portrayed as struggles to gain independence and stop being dependent on others.  The situation is couched in terms of controlling oneself versus being controlled by others.  Interdependence – working in cooperation with others – doesn’t appear to be an option, and that is my problem with the book.  

The Story.  In the beginning, X says she wants nothing more than to be left alone.  “Every day I wish I could just become a disappearing act,” she moans.[4]  But she isn’t left alone and really does not want to be.  She likes sitting on the front stoop of the apartment building in which her family lives.  She claims to find freedom sitting still on the front stoop.  “There is freedom in choosing to sit and be still when everything is always telling me to move, move fast.”[5]  But sitting on the stoop only makes her more conspicuous – she is in the way of people going in and out – so that people can’t help seeing her, talking with her, and often telling her to move. 

The underlying reality is that X wants to be somebody and something, and she wants to be noticed for who and what she thinks she is.  The storyline of the book describes her maturation as a person and a writer, and her coming of age as a poet.  Her development proceeds in stages as she moves from angry and introverted loser to exuberant and extroverted champion. 

In the first stage, X starts writing a diary which ostensibly becomes the book we are reading.  And she increasingly writes it in poetry.  As her diary writing proceeds, she develops her ability to express herself.  Her goal is self-expression and to show in words what she is.  

Meanwhile, one of her teachers, who runs a poetry club in X’s high school, repeatedly asks and encourages X to join the club.  X is for a long time unwilling to join the club because she thinks her writing is not good enough and she doesn’t want to expose herself as a loser.  But X shows some of her poems to Caridad and Twin, and they like them.  Eventually X gives in to her teacher’s badgering and attends a club meeting. 

X reads some of her poetry to the group and is flattered by the reaction of the students and her teacher.  The teacher smiles and the rest of the group follow suit.  “And everyone smiles,” X exclaims in her diary, “because they know that means I killed it.”[6]  “Killed it” is a phrase used by X throughout the book to denote success.  It is in common usage these days among young people.  It means that she is the winner.  That she has dominated. 

X feels the power of her words and power over her audience.  She celebrates to herself: “My little words feel important, for just a moment.  This is a feeling I could get addicted to.”  She is in essence on a power trip and it feels good to her.[7]

X has become a more social being but not a more cooperative person.  Although she has joined a poetry group, poetry has not become a cooperative activity for her.  The group is essentially a collection of individual poets who recite their poems to each other, and receive support from the group for their efforts, but do not work together in any significant way.  There are other formats for writing groups in which people do work together, for example, starting their work with common topic prompts and critiquing each other’s writing.  

Such groups are cooperative rather than merely collective, and people collaborate with each other in some significant way.  The group becomes something of a joint venture in support of each person’s individuality, and everyone can feel some sense of achievement in a colleague’s success.  When I was in high school many long years ago, I participated in a creative writing class that operated in this way.  It was great.  X’s group does not work that way. 

The story of X’s coming of age as a poet proceeds from X’s willingness to expose her poetry to others in the poetry club to her willingness to submit herself and her poetry at an open-mic poetry event.  At an open-mic event, people read their poetry but there is no group discussion or public reaction to the poems.  A poet can, however, get a sense of the audience’s reaction from the way they listen, and can get some comments from people after the event. 

X is very nervous before the open-mic event, but she overcomes her nervousness and performs well.  The audience seems to appreciate her work.  Afterword, Twin says “You killed that shit.”  And she says to herself “I can’t wait to do this again.”  Again, it’s her power over the audience that is the key to her feeling of success.[8]

In the course of the story, while she is struggling with her poetic self-confidence, X gets romantically involved with a young man and seemingly becomes dependent on his emotional support.  But she breaks up with him when he stands by without doing anything as she is being sexually assaulted.  She concludes from his failure to stand up for her that she must be able to stand up for herself and not depend on anyone else: “Because no one will ever take care of me but me.”[9]  Independence becomes her credo. 

Finally, X gains enough self-confidence and is sufficiently motivated by ambition to enter a poetry slam competition.  A poetry slam is a competition organized into elimination rounds to determine who is ostensibly the best poet.  Poets compete head-to-head in each round, with the winner going on to the next round and the loser going home.  The winners of each round and the final winner are determined by the reaction of the audience.  Members of the audience are supposed to cheer poems they like and boo poems they don’t like.  It can be a brutal experience.

While most people think of poetry as an artform that promotes the peaceful contemplation of beauty, and inspires thought-provoking and emotion-provoking meditations, slams turn poetry into a form of aggression, a weapon to be used to defeat one’s opponent.     

X feels ready “to slam” because she feels that her words “connect with people”[10]  In this context, “connecting” means her ability to get people to applaud her poetry and reject her opponents’ poems.  X wins the slam and sees herself as a winner.  Winning is her identity, and it is her ability to defeat others that in the context of this book is the sign of her maturation and coming of age.  The story promotes a paradigmatic individualistic message, and X is presented in this way as a role model for other young people to emulate. 

X’s own conclusion, and the last words in book, is that her maturation has been the result of “learning to believe in the power of my own words.”[11]  Power is the key word here.  X has been on a power trip, and like Popeye, she has ultimately asserted that she is what she is, and has forced other people to recognize it.  She is the winner.  At least until the beginning of the next slam poetry competition when she will once again have to fight for her identity.  Ad infinitum.

The story has a happy ending that is not quite believable and, if believed, is not laudable.  X inexplicably gets back with her undependable boyfriend, seemingly a testament to her independence.  Then her mother, father, priest, and boyfriend all rally around her and rejoice along with Twin and Caridad when X wins the poetry slam.  All the people who have been on X’s x-list are suddenly behind her now that she is a winner and she has established her independence of them.[12]  Winning is everything in the individualist world and that is X’s world.

But what are we to think of all the poets who did not win the slam?  And what are they supposed to think of themselves?  Losers all?  Given that in any competition there can be only one winner, and the great majority of competitors lose, is it healthy to convey to insecure adolescents in a book such as this that winning is the only way to be someone?   

The Moral of the Story.   “Me,” “me,” and more “me” permeate the book.  Granted that a story in the form of a diary is going to include a lot about the diarist, The Poet X is at the self-centered extreme of such stories.  X even admits that she is unusually self-centered.  She notes that almost all of the other poet slammers include social and political issues in their poems.  Not her, she says, “the thing is, all my poems are personal.”[13]  I am what I am and that is all I am.    

But it does not have to be that way.  There are plenty of coming-of-age stories for adolescent readers that are in diary form and that are not so self-centered as The Poet X.  Kathryn Lasky’s Dreams in the Golden Country is an example.

Dreams in the Golden Country: We’re all in this together.

Dreams in the Golden Country by Kathryn Laskey is a coming-of-age story about an adolescent Russian Jewish girl who immigrates to America in the early 1900’s.[14]  Laskey is an award-winning author of books for young people.  Published in 1998, Dreams is written in the form of the girl’s diary.  It is part of the Dear America series of fictional diaries of adolescents who supposedly lived in different times, places and circumstances during American history.

The Dear America books are highly regarded and have been widely used in middle school and high school American history classes.  The books serve at least two important purposes.  First: they portray for students the ways in which ordinary people lived.  It is a way of teaching history from the bottom up, focusing on common people and common experiences as a complement to the usual way of teaching history through focusing on major events and major historical figures.  It is also a way of appealing to students who might be able to identify with diarists who are young like themselves and who are just ordinary people like themselves.

Second, the books portray the ways in which adolescents came of age in different historical circumstances.  First-person historical fiction of this sort can help young readers see themselves and their own struggles with adolescence in perspective.  Comparing and contrasting their present-day problems and conditions with those of adolescents in past times and different places can help young readers understand the choices they face and the consequences of those choices. 

Literature of this sort also encourages readers to adopt both an insider’s perspective and an outsider’s perspective on the events being portrayed in the book.  Readers are encouraged to identify with the diarists as fellow adolescents but also distance themselves from the diarists as having lived in the past.  Readers can, thereby, adopt an inside perspective on the diarist’s situation as a fellow adolescent and an outside perspective as a person of the present day. 

This inside-outside perspective is an approach to events that can be helpful in dealing with a reader’s own problems.  Adopting an inside view of a situation and an outside view at the same time can be a key to understanding the situation and making good choices in dealing with it.  And reading fiction that encourages readers to take insider and outsider views of events can help readers to see their own situations in the same way. 

The Backdrop of the Story.  In Dreams in the Golden Country, the diarist, Zipporah Feldman, nicknamed Zippy, is a Russian Jewish girl who has emigrated with her family to the United States in 1903.  She is twelve years old at the beginning of the book.  Her family has left Russia to escape violent attacks on Jews that were being promoted by the Czarist government. 

Large numbers of Russian and Polish Jews came to America at this time, as did large numbers of poor immigrants from other Eastern and Southern European countries.  Almost all of these immigrants settled in major American cities where they worked in sweatshop factories or as day laborers.  Zippy and her family settle on the Lower East Side of Manhattan in New York City, which was a haven for immigrants and a major center of garment industry sweat shops. 

The early twentieth century was a time of significant change in American society.  The country was absorbing an influx of poor immigrants, struggling to manage rapidly growing cities, and trying to adapt to an industrial economy.  American cities were conglomerations of foreign immigrants and American migrants.  Most of them were peasants and farmers who had to adjust to each other’s differences, to living in close urban quarters, and to working in factories. 

The United States in the early twentieth century was a steaming stewpot of ethnicities, races and religions, a stewpot in the sense of being a mixture of different peoples all trying to develop a common identity as Americans while, at the same time, retaining some cultural identity with their national origins.  

The setup of Zippy’s story has some similarities with X’s but also some very important differences in the directions the stories take.  Both Zippy and X are from immigrant families and belong to minority ethnicities, and both face adversity as a result.  Both also have mothers who are strict religious traditionalists, and they struggle to get free of their mothers’ control.  And both are outcasts at school, but with different implications.  X overcomes her troubles through establishing herself a winner.  Zippy overcomes hers through establishing herself as a helper.

The Story.  Zippy’s diary records the ways she and her family adjusted to their new life.  The diary reports on her first year and a half in America as she learns English, makes new friends from different ethnic and religious backgrounds, goes to public school, works at different neighborhood jobs, and watches the behavior of her parents and her sisters as they develop their new selves in their new world.  As Zippy observes the people and the society around, her diary reveals her maturing awareness of the changes in her family, her circumstances and herself.   

When the book opens, Zippy, her mother and her two older sisters are joining her father who had preceded them to America in order to find work and a place to live.  Her father, whom she calls Papai, had been a well-known concert violinist in Russia.  In America, he can find only menial work in a sweat shop garment factory.

Zippy’s mother, Mama, is a strictly Orthodox Jewish housewife who is upset by what she sees as the laxity in religious practices and outright secularism among Jews she sees in New York.  She is outraged when her husband and her two older daughters become less observant, and she repeatedly berates her husband about this.

Zippy at first just watches the family dispute, but she eventually joins her siblings and father in abandoning some old-world religious customs as a means of becoming more American.  She comes to see that her mother is afraid of changes because they might undermine her power in the family.  To assuage her fears, Papa buys his wife a sewing machine to give her something to do and they all praise her work.  “You are much better with a needle than I am” Papa tells her, and eventually she relents to some of the changes in her family.[15]

Zippy’s older sisters Tovah and Miriam are seventeen and fifteen respectively.  It’s Zippy’s diary but the story is as much about her big sisters and how they navigate adolescence as it is about her.  Unlike Zippy who goes to school, they both go to work in the garment factory with Papa.  Each takes a different path to growing up and offers a different role model for readers. 

Tovah, with whom we readers are seemingly expected to sympathize, is rebellious.  She wants to become completely Americanized, and she becomes involved in labor union organizing and socialist political activities.  Mama opposes these things, and Zippy tries to negotiate between her sister, whom she deeply admires, and her mother, whom she deeply loves.  With Zippy’s help, Mama eventually comes to terms with Tovah’s politics.[16]

Miriam is quietly rebellious in a different way.  She begins dating a Christian boy.  Mama is apoplectic about this.  When Miriam marries him, Mama declares Miriam to be dead in her eyes, says prayers for the dead for Miriam, and gets rid of all of Miriam’s things.  Zippy initially sympathizes with Mama’s objection to the marriage, but is shocked by her mother’s harsh response to it.  Over time, Zippy comes to accept and then approve of the marriage.[17]

Since Zippy does not initially know English, she is put into a class at school with seven-year-olds.  She is deeply embarrassed and ashamed about this.  But she practices English by teaching it to her mother, and by the end of the school year, she is back up to grade level.  Unlike X who felt good when she was able to excel over her colleagues, Zippy feels good that she can now fit in with her classmates.[18] 

In the same vein, Zippy records her interest in neighborhood, city-wide, national and international events. instead of focusing, like X, on herself and things that affect her personally. Unlike X who starts with herself and then discusses others and issues in relation to herself, Zippy starts with others and with issues, and then discusses herself in relation to them.  It is the difference between self-centered individualism and cooperative individuality.

Zippy writes a lot about conflicts as does X.  Conflict is a staple of adolescent life.  But, unlike X who focuses almost entirely on personal conflicts, Zippy records and seeks to understand social conflicts involving others.  She writes about conflicts between different ethnic groups, such as Irish Catholics against Russian Jews, and conflicts within ethnic groups, such Northern Irish against Southern Irish, [19] and German Jews against Russian Jews[20]

 She writes about conflicts over whether and to what extent immigrants should assimilate, such as Jews becoming less orthodox so that they can work and live with other Americans.  She writes about conflicts over interreligious marriages such as those between Jews and Christians.  And she writes about class conflicts between bosses and workers. 

Zippy struggles to understand these conflicts.  She is torn between her mother’s primary identification as Jewish and as a member of “The Chosen People” and Tovah’s primary identification as American.  Zippy reconciles her desire to maintain a Jewish identity while also becoming American with the conclusion that it is OK “to feel chosen, as Mama says, but not superior.”  That is, it is OK to feel special as a Jew while recognizing the specialness of other peoples, and to welcome the specialness that all peoples share in common. 

In this regard, Zippy seems to endorse the idea of America as a stewpot in which different peoples can cooperate together, maintaining their separate ethnic identities while sharing a common identity as Americans.  E pluribus unum.  She seems to endorse the idea of individuality, in which each person makes a unique contribution to the group, as opposed to individualism in which each person tries to dominates over others.[21]

Toward the end of the book, Zippy goes to work at the Hebrew Immigrant Aide Society which helps immigrants become settled in the United States.  It is an example of how Zippy finds herself by helping others.[22] 

The Moral of the Story.   Whereas “me’ was the operative term for X, “we” is the operative term for Zippy.  Zippy’s story has a happy ending that is too good to be believable but is not harmful to the message of the book.  Zippy does some clerical work at a local Yiddish theater and parlays that into a small part in a play.  After Zippy’s first acting performance, the whole family, including Miriam and her Christian husband, reunite and celebrate together.  All is forgiven and seemingly forgotten.[23] 

And the whole family does well in America.  Zippy’s father is discovered by a touring Russian orchestra, is invited to play with the orchestra in a concert, and parlays his success in that performance into a job as a music teacher and part-time concert violinist.[24]  Tovah becomes a big-time union leader in the International Ladies Garment Workers Union and a political activist.[25]  Miriam has a happy marriage and her mother loves her Christian son-in-law.[26]  Zippy continues in the theatre and eventually becomes a famous actress and an avid philanthropist.[27] 

Happily ever after.  A stretch, but it is after all a story for young people, and it is an ending that reinforces the moral of the story: the importance of individuality and cooperation.

The Moral of this Essay.

Unlike many other animals, humans are not equipped to live individualistically by themselves.  Rhinoceroses, for example, are solitary creatures who come together only for purposes of mating and otherwise survive and thrive on their own.  Lions, on the other hand, need to band together for purposes of hunting, being individually very poor hunters.  Humans are like lions in this regard and need to band together in order to survive, let alone thrive. 

It is also the case that unlike many other animals, humans do not naturally conserve the environment in which they live.  Gorillas, for example, are vegetarians who forage for food.  They consume the vegetation in a place and then move on to another place nearby.  But they leave behind them feces that contain undigested seeds.  These fertilized seeds grow into more vegetation, replenishing what the gorillas have eaten.  Gorillas generally travel about a half-mile per day in search of vegetation and make a big circle in the course of a year, eventually coming back to where they started. When they have returned, there is new vegetation for them to eat, vegetation that they effectively planted the year before.  Gorillas are foragers but also farmers and conservationists. 

Rabbits, on the other hand, will breed and consume themselves to self-destruction in Malthusian terms if not thwarted.  They do not replenish the environment that sustains them.  Humans seem by nature to be individually irresponsible like rabbits, but collectively they have been able to thrive and conserve their environment when they have cooperated.  The moral seems to be that individuality through cooperation is the key to the success of humanity and the survival of the environment in which humans have thrived. 

Adolescence should be a time of teaching social skills and social cooperation to young people, not a time of encouraging egotistical individualism.  That is why I think books like Dreams in the Golden Country are preferable to those like The Poet X.       

BW 11/21


[1] Erik Erikson Identity: Youth and Crisis. New York: W.W. Norton & Co., 1968.

[2] Elizabeth Acevedo. The Poet X.  New York: HarperTeen, 2018.

[3]  Acevedo. P.333.

[4]  Acevedo. P.250. 

[5]  Acevedo. P. 247.

[6] Acevedo. P. 286.

[7]  Acevedo. P.259.

[8] Acevedo. P. 279-280).

[9] Acevedo. P. 219.

[10] Acevedo. P.287.

[11]  Acevedo. P.357.

[12] Acevedo. Pp. 252-255.

[13] Acevedo. P. 344.

[14] Kathryn Laskey.  Dreams in the Golden Country. New York: Scholastic, Inc., 1998.

[15] Laskey. Pp.8, 35, 39.

[16] Laskey. P.79.

[17] Laskey. Pp.111-113.

[18] Laskey. Pp. 22, 42, 130.

[19] Laskey. P. 17.

[20] Laskey. Pp.22, 32, 75.

[21] Laskey. P.62.

[22] Laskey. P.111.

[23] Laskey. Pp. 150-151.

[24] Laskey. P.132.

[25] Laskey. P.153.

[26] Laskey. P.151.

[27] Laskey. P.143.

Racism, Sexism, Antisemitism.  Dealing with Bigotry in Our Favorite Authors. Charles Dickens’ Oliver Twist.  Anthony Trollope’s Phineas Redux.

Racism, Sexism, Antisemitism.

Dealing with Bigotry in Our Favorite Authors.

Charles Dickens’ Oliver Twist.  Anthony Trollope’s Phineas Redux.

Burton Weltman

To read or not to read, that is the question.

Bigotry: An arbitrary prejudice against a person or people based on their membership in a particular group, most often a racial, gender, religious, or ethnic group.

Bigotry among the Literati.

Nathaniel Hawthorne. 

Charles Dickens.

Anthony Trollope.

Henry James.  

Agatha Christie. 

What do these five disparate authors have in common?  Racism, sexism, and antisemitism.  Their books are peopled with demeaning stereotypes of blacks, women, and Jews.  If you read much Anglo-American literature that was written during the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, you cannot avoid coming across demeaning images of blacks, women and Jews, and overtly hostile sentiments toward blacks and Jews.  Bigotry of this sort was a common element in most literature of that time.  And, of course, it was not confined to blacks, women and Jews.  Prejudice against Catholics, Muslims, Asians, Native Americans, and minority groups of almost all sorts was almost pervasive.  It was a great age of bigotry in literature. 

Many factors fueled this explosion of literary bigotry in England and America.  Aggressive imperialism.  Massive migrations and immigrations.  Misconceptions of evolutionary theory.  Cynical political manipulation.  Increasing social class conflicts.  Declining traditional elites.  Declining traditional values.  Intractable social problems.  All of these and other factors contributed to social and cultural turmoil, and to ethnic resentments and scapegoating all around. 

Social movements of the left and the right contributed to bigotry during this period through personalizing social problems rather than systematizing them.  Social movements also tended to focus more on the negative than on the positive, on their enemies rather than their goals.  On the left, for example, social activists tended to focus on the evil of capitalists rather than the evils of capitalism.  On the right, they tended to be anti-liberals or anti-socialists rather than anti-liberalism or anti-socialism.  Focusing on their opponents, on who they were against instead of what they were against or what they were for, it was easy to slide into demonizing and scapegoating minority groups that they identified with their enemies.  Not unlike today.      

Bigotry among the literati was widespread, almost pervasive, but not entirely, and that is important.  There were successful authors who did not write bigotry into their works.  It was even possible for highly successful authors such as William Dean Howells, the dean of late nineteenth century American writers, to explicitly oppose bigotry.  It will not do, therefore, to excuse bigoted authors on the grounds that their prejudices were part of the culture of the times, and that everyone was similarly guilty, because not everyone was similarly guilty.  That makes it hard for those of us who love the literature of the period but hate the bigotry in it. 

I have been a lifelong fan of the novels of this period.  The nineteenth century was the great age of long social and sociological novels, as distinguished from the more introspective and psychological fiction that became popular during the twentieth century.  They are books in which you can reside in a society of some other time and place, and which you can wish would never end.  And they are books from which you can learn a lot about other people and about yourself.   Therefore, it galls and angers me when I find bigotry in books and in authors that I otherwise admire.  As a Jewish person, it also depresses and demoralizes me to find antisemitism in books and among writers where I hoped to find hope.  What is one to do?

Antisemitism in Late-Nineteenth and Early-Twentieth Century Novels.

Although antisemitism had been endemic in Europe for almost two thousand years, it was ironically heightened during the nineteenth century by the abolition of most of the ghettos in which Jews had been for the most part confined since the Middle Ages.  Jews were now free to go almost anywhere, and prejudice against them followed.  Also ironically, antisemitism fitted in with both left-wing antipathy to capitalists and right-wing antipathy toward socialists.  Jews were condemned as both greedy capitalists and sinister socialists.  Not unlike today.

While most of the leading novelists of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries wrote at least some antisemitism into their books, not all did.  In a rough survey of leading authors based on my reading and recollections over the years, Hawthorn, for example, did, but Melville did not.  Dickens and Trollope did, but George Eliot did not.  Henry James, Henry Adams and Hamlin Garland did, but William Dean Howells did not.  Frank Norris, Stephen Crane, Jack London, Theodore Dreiser, and Edith Wharton did, but Abraham Cahan did not (Of course, Cahan was Jewish).  John Dos Passos, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway and Willam Faulkner did, but James T. Farrell did not.  Agatha Christie and Dorothy Sayers did, but Rex Stout did not.

In the books of the bigoted authors, Jews were generally portrayed through conventional stereotypes.  These included the sinister big-time banker, the greedy small-time moneylender, the crooked petty peddler, and the fraudulent shyster.  In point of fact, these stereotypical Jews loomed much larger in the imaginary worlds of the novelists than they did in real life.  It has been estimated that less than one percent of the populations of England and the United States was Jewish during the nineteenth century.  Given their insignificant numbers, there was really no good reason to mention Jews at all in the novels of the period.    

Like most stereotypes, these Jewish stereotypes had a quarter-grain of truth to them.  Historically, Jews had generally been forbidden to own land in most European countries or practice any of what were considered the respectable professions, and they had frequently been expelled from wherever they were living.  As a result, Jews tended to take up occupations that they could carry with them.  This included banking, money lending and peddling.  But it also included medicine, various skilled crafts and, for most Jews, unskilled labor.    

As such, although Jews were somewhat disproportionately overrepresented among financiers, money lenders and peddlers, the overwhelming majority of Jews were not involved in high finance, money lending or peddling.  Very few were bankers.  Jews were also disproportionately overrepresented among doctors, artisans and craftspeople, a fact that was rarely represented in novels of that time.  In turn, the overwhelming majority of financiers, money lenders and peddlers were not Jewish.  You would not guess this from reading most novels of the time.

Dealing with bigotry: Forgiving and Forgetting? 

Novels of the time were mostly bigoted to a greater or lesser extent.  Bigotry is bad.  It is the common practice for teachers and commentators to excuse the bigotry in novels of this period on the grounds that the authors were merely reflecting their society.  I think this is very wrong.  Bigotry can be explained but it should not be excused both because it is bad in and of itself and because it was eminently avoidable.  Bigotry was a writer’s choice.  Not every late-nineteenth and early-twentieth century author was a bigot.  And there was enough evidence available for an intelligent person to see through the demeaning stereotypes that were commonly circulating.  As such, writing bigotry into their books was a choice that authors made, and an inexcusable choice.

Bigotry also went against the ethical ideals of the time.  Whatever their backgrounds, writers of that time were taught what we call the Golden Rule.  In its most common formulations, the Golden Rule enjoins us to “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you” and to “Love thy neighbor as thyself.”  Bigotry violates the Golden Rule and, in so doing, it is harmful not only to its victims but to its perpetrators.  Because the Golden Rule is not just an ethical proposition, it is also a psychological principle.  It is a statement of fact and not merely an aspiration.  It teaches us that if you think well of yourself, you will likely treat others well.  If you treat others poorly, you will likely think poorly of yourself.  Bigots demean themselves even as they denigrate others.

Bigotry also went against the social ideals of the time, especially the democratic ideals that were predominant in the United States and were becoming prominent in England.  It has been said that the basic principle of democracy is majority rule with minority rights, the most important of which is the right of the minority to possibly become the majority.  From this statement flow all of the rights and duties prescribed in the United States Constitution and, especially, in the Bill of Rights.  A corollary of that democratic principle is the principle of tolerance which can be stated as tolerance for the tolerant, and intolerance for the intolerant.  This principle is the core of the freedoms guaranteed by the First Amendment.  Bigotry contravenes principles of democracy and tolerance and, as such, bigotry should not be excused.     

It is also commonplace for devotees of the bigoted writers and books to insist that even if we cannot excuse the bigotry, we should get over it.  Bigotry was wrong but, given the value of the works, we should forgive and forget the bigotry.  I think this is also very wrong.  Literary bigotry should not be forgiven or forgotten, and one should not expect the victims of bigotry to just get over it.  “Just get over it” has become a mantra for those who have done something wrong and want it to be forgiven and forgotten.  That is an unfair and unrealistic expectation, especially if you have been the victim of someone’s prejudice. 

As a Jewish person, there is no way I am going to get over the shock and embarrassment when I was six years old and the grandmother of my best friend who lived next door said to me “There is only one thing worse than having a (n-word) living next door to you and that is having a Jew.”  Or the anguish when I first read Oliver Twist as an assigned book at school and found it filled with antisemitism.  I am approaching seventy-seven years of age and those memories are as fresh as if the events happened yesterday.

Likewise, I don’t see how black people can be expected to get over the racism that permeates novels of the nineteenth and early twentieth century in which they were generally caricatured as stupid and shiftless, and in which the “N” word was commonplace.  Significantly, even in Huckleberry Finn, for which Mark Twain has been praised for portraying Jim the black slave as an intelligent, sensitive and caring person, the book opens with a caricature of Jim as a superstitious fool and closes with him reverting to that same character. 

And I don’t see how women can be expected to get over the overwhelmingly sexist portrayal of women in novels of the period, especially including those by Charles Dickens.  Even Anthony Trollope, who criticized the oppression of women, portrayed women as being less intelligent, having poorer executive skills, and being overly emotional compared to men. 

Getting over bigotry is not something that any ethical person should be able to do even if the person has not been the target of prejudice.  Getting over bigotry implies that your feelings against it will be neutralized and you will henceforth treat it with indifference.  The fact that an author has espoused bigotry will no longer matter to you.  That is not a position with which an ethical person should be comfortable.   

Bigoted books convey and encourage bigotry.  The fact that they are well-written, enjoyable and, in many cases, otherwise enlightened and enlightening makes their bigoted impact even more invidious.  That is not something one should be able to just dismiss.  But does that mean we must dismiss – or “cancel” in the currently popular term for shunning someone or something – most of the best novelists of the late-nineteenth and early-twentieth centuries?  That is not an easy question, but in the case of most authors of the period, I think not. 

I think the question is not whether one should excuse bigoted authors or get over their bigotry, but whether one can get by the bigotry.  That is, can one acknowledge that an author is bigoted but still accept the author’s works as worthwhile?  Can one recognize that a book espouses bigotry but still accept the book as otherwise worthwhile?  Should bigotry in an author or a book be an insuperable obstacle to reading and appreciating that author or book?  Toward answering those questions, I think it is helpful to try to distinguish different types and degrees of bigotry.

Gradations of Bigotry: From Bad to Worse.

Given that any expression of bigotry is hurtful and harmful, I think one can identify different types and levels of prejudice, and can conceive of a range of bigotry with some forms worse than others.  For purposes of distinguishing between more and less objectionable prejudices, and determining whether I can get by the bigotry in a book, I try to make and apply three distinctions.

These distinctions or tests respectively focus on whether the prejudice is portrayed as a function of cultural differences or supposed racial differences, whether the prejudice is conveyed in the form of distaste and snobbery or fear and hatred, and whether the prejudice is extraneous to the main themes of the book or is integral to them.  Between each of the poles of these distinctions is a variety of possible prejudices, ranging from the relatively gentle and genteel to the outright vile and vicious. 

The first distinction is based on whether the prejudice is presented in terms of cultural differences between peoples or alleged racial differences between them.  Culture is learned and it can be unlearned, changed, and compromised.  As such, cultural differences can theoretically be amicably bridged.  Cultural prejudices usually take the form of snobbery, looking down on members of the demeaned group and avoiding them.  They are often seen as the core of gentility. 

Biological differences, in contrast, are generally portrayed as inherent and permanent.  They are seen as genetic and can seemingly not be overcome.  Biological prejudice, in turn, often takes the form of fearing members of the demeaned group, hating them, attacking them, and trying to eliminate them.  The opposite of genteel. 

There is a range of prejudice between these two poles of ostensibly genteel cultural antipathies and vicious racial hatreds.  Cultural prejudices are generally less noxious than racial prejudices.  It is one thing to portray one’s own culture as better than others.  It is another to portray a group of people as biologically inferior or genetically evil.  In my estimation, the closer the author or book is to the cultural snobbery pole, the less noxious the prejudice and the easier to otherwise accept that author or the author’s book.  The closer to the genetically evil pole, the viler the prejudice and the greater difficulty in accepting an author or a book.

A second distinction that follows from the first is whether the author’s prejudice consists solely of distaste for the disparaged people and calls merely for avoiding them, or whether it is based on fear and loathing of the disparaged people, possibly including conspiracy theories about the evils intended by the disparaged people, and concluding in calls for their elimination and possibly annihilation.  The closer an author is to the snobbish position, the less offensive.  Any resemblance or connection of a book to the genocide position makes that author and book unacceptable.

A third distinction is between prejudices that are incidental and distinguishable from a book’s main messages and prejudices that are integral to the book’s central purposes.  Whether, for example, the book is promoting the prejudices or merely reporting prejudices of the characters or society that the book is portraying.  And whether the bigotry is unintentionally hurtful or is deliberately hurtful and harmful.  The less integral and deliberate the prejudices, the easier to get past them.  If a book is deliberately promoting hurtful and harmful prejudices, it is unacceptable.

Antisemitism in Trollope and Dickens: Guilty and Guilty with an Explanation.

I will try to demonstrate the way in which my algorithm of bigotry works in considering the antisemitism in two popular mid-nineteenth century novels by two popular nineteenth century authors: Anthony Trollope’s Phineas Redux (1873) and Charles Dickens’ Oliver Twist (1839).  Trollope’s book was clearly antisemitic.  So was Dickens’ but he supposedly didn’t mean it.    

Anthony Trollope.  Anthony Trollope was a prolific writer and popular novelist of the mid-to-late nineteenth century.  He wrote some forty-seven novels and dozens of short stories.  He is perhaps best known for two series of six novels each, the Barchester series that centers around the politics and policies of the Anglican Church and the Palliser series that centers around the politics and personalities of the English Parliament.

I have read the Barchester series over the years, several of the books more than once, and liked them very much.  They are not antisemitic in my view.  In the six Barchester books, there are some six references to Jews.  Two are inconsequential references to Jewish moneylenders and constitute what I would term genteel prejudice.  The other four are facetious references to Jewish religious practices that are inconsequential and that I would term genteel, and that pale in comparison with the large number of facetious references to Christian religious practices that go to the core of the books’ themes.

The Palliser novels tell a different story.  I have only recently come to read the Palliser books and was not prepared for what I found.  Most of the Palliser books were written after the Barchester novels – only one book overlaps.  There are dozens of references to Jews in the Palliser books and they are all derogatory.  The antisemitism builds through the first five books.

In the first two books, there are only a few disparaging references to Jews, more in the second than in the first, and they are mainly inconsequential and could be considered of the genteel type.  Then in the third book, The Eustace Diamonds, a villainous Jewish character plays a secondary but important role.  He reflects a turn toward a virulent racism.  This same villainous Jew then plays a primary role in Phineas Redux.  And in the book that follows Phineas Redux in the series, The Prime Minister, the main villainous character is also Jewish, though he denies it.  In the context of the Palliser series, that is just what a sneaky Jew would do

Phineas Redux is the fourth book in the Palliser series.  It is mainly about the ups and downs of the love-life and the political career of a young man named Phineas Finn.  The book is a wryly humorous send up of British politics and the British Parliament, a fictional mimicking and mocking of actual people and events of Trollope’s day.  It also takes off on the pretensions of the British aristocracy and the social climbing of the middle classes.  It is wonderfully facetious.

Trollope was relatively progressive when it came to women, and the book incorporates a critique of the oppression of women, especially married women trapped in a legal system that enforced the principle that a husband and wife are one and the husband is the one.  The book is one among a number of late-nineteenth and early twentieth century novels in which women were portrayed as struggling against traditional constraints, especially the stranglehold that husbands had over their wives.  Middlemarch by George, Eliot, Anna Karenina by Tolstoy, Portrait of a Lady by Henry James, The House of Mirth by Edith Wharton are other examples, just to name a few.

Phineas Redux is a well-written and engaging novel.  It is well-plotted, full of twists and turns, suspense and surprise, interesting character development, engaging descriptions of scenes and situations, and empathetic portraits of persons and personal relationships.  It is also interesting, informative and insightful about British politics. So far, so good. 

But then seemingly out of nowhere and for no good reason, the villain of the book turns out to be a Jew named Emilius.  And not just a Jew but a Jew pretending to be a Christian clergyman who succeeds in attracting a gullible following and marrying a rich and beautiful Christian woman.  It turns out, however, that Emilius is a practiced swindler, a bigamist who already has a Jewish wife, and a cold-blooded murderer who tries to pin the murder on the hero Phineas Finn. 

It is not clear what it means that Emilius is Jewish.  He neither says nor does anything that is in any way Jewish, and he is noted for his pious preaching as a Christian minister.  Nonetheless, he is constantly called “the Jew” or “that Jew” by the narrator and the characters in the book, and usually with some derogatory comment attached thereto.  His being Jewish has nothing to do with the plot and adds nothing to the story except a large gratuitous dollop of antisemitism.  There was no reason for Trollope to make Emilius Jewish other than either to express some prejudice that Trollope just had to vent or to play to the prejudices of his intended audience.  It was seemingly either a function of a vicious personality trait or a vile marketing ploy.  

Significantly, Emilius is frequently referred to as a “converted Jew,” as though his becoming a Christian does not make him any less of a Jew.  That is, Jewishness is seemingly a racial thing for Trollope and not a cultural or religious phenomena.  Once a dirty Jew, always a dirty Jew and, even worse in this case, a dirty Jew in the guise of a Christian.  Emilius is portrayed as a loathsome character and a dangerous imposter with his vile Jewishness at his core.

The antisemitism in the book is not confined to Emilius.  Jews as a group are described in demeaning terms throughout.  The general attitude of the author toward Jews is exemplified on the third page of the novel when one of the main characters with whom we readers are expected to identify as being a good person says to her friend “You would be worse than a Jew if you did not believe me.”  Jew is also repeatedly connected with loan sharking and money gouging.          

Applying my algorithm of bigotry to Phineas Redux, I conclude that Trollope fails the first test in that he seems to think of Jewishness as a genetic racial curse that even conversion to Christianity cannot erase.  Trollope also fails the second test because his objection to Jews is presented not merely as distaste but as loathing.  And not mere loathing but as a conspiratorial threat to British society.  Finally, Trollope fails the third test in that the actions of the Jew Emilius, and the reactions of other characters to him, permeate the book.  Although the novel is largely concerned with Parliamentary matters and Phineas’ ups and downs, it is the evil Jew Emilius who haunts the book.  To the charge of antisemitism in Phineas Redux, Trollope must be found guilty, and guilty of a particularly vicious kind.  

Charles Dickens.   With respect to antisemitism, Trollope was benign in his earlier books, then vile later.  Dickens went the other way.  He was vile early and aimed to be benign later.  Dickens wrote some fifteen novels, if you count The Pickwick Papers, which is actually a picaresque conglomeration of stories, and The Mystery of Edwin Drood, which was unfinished at his death.  Oliver Twist followed The Pickwick Papers and was Dickens’ first actual novel, that is, a lengthy complex and coherent story.  He was new at the game, ambitious to succeed as a novelist, and full of himself as a result of the success of The Pickwick Papers. Seemingly, when Dickens went looking for a villain for his novel, one that might command the attention of a wide audience, he decided that his best bet was to caricature a Jew and he created the evil Fagin.

The portrait of Fagin in Oliver Twist is a disgusting instance of antisemitism in an otherwise interesting book.  The character of Fagin and the way he is continually referred to as “the Jew,” usually with derogatory comments attached thereto, made the book disturbing to me when I was forced as a child to read it for school and has made it unreadable for me ever since.  And that’s even after Dickens excised some of the antisemitic language from the original version. 

The story is that sometime after the book was published, Dickens was confronted by some Jewish acquaintances who complained that the book was antisemitic.  At first, Dickens tried to deny that the portrayal of Fagin was antisemitic.  He claimed that Fagin was modeled after an actual Jewish criminal named Ikey Solomon who had run a gang of young thieves similar to that of Fagin.  In effect, pleading guilty to antisemitism with an explanation.

As a means of supporting this plea, Dickens excised some of the antisemitic rhetoric from later editions of the book.  There had been some 257 negative references to Fagin’s Jewishness in the original and Dickens removed 118 of them.  He also created some sympathetic Jewish characters in his later book Our Mutual Friend to try to prove that he wasn’t antisemitic.    

But Dickens did not excise all of the antisemitic rhetoric from Oliver Twist.  It is still incredibly offensive.  Having read the expurgated version, I find it hard to imagine how offensive the original must have been.  And Dickens still included casual antisemitic remarks made by characters in most of his other books, mostly connecting Jews with money lending and debt collecting. 

“We would make him as rich as a Jew if we knew how,” intones John Jarndyce, a main character in Bleak House.  Similar references to Jewish wealth and Jewish business practices appear once or twice in each of Dickens’ novels.  But they are infrequent and inconsequential, almost as though they were unthinking commonplaces in Dickens’ repertoire.  They are examples of what I would call genteel prejudice.  Despite himself, and maybe despite his good intentions, Dickens’ bigotry showed through in his later works.  If he had been more thoughtful, he might have avoided it.   

Applying my algorithm to Oliver Twist, I conclude that the character of Fagin has to be considered a racist caricature rather than a cultural prejudice.  There is nothing Jewish about what Fagin says or does, and the book focuses on his physical characteristics – especially his hooked nose – which echo the antisemitic stereotype of Jews.  I conclude that the book also portrays Fagin’s Jewishness as a threat to British society and as not merely distasteful.  The book implies that he and his ilk must be exterminated, as he is at the end of the book.  Finally, I conclude that antisemitism is integral to the main theme of the book, that is, that there are cunning Jews out there who are warping our children and turning them into criminals.  In sum, Dickens, despite his disclaimers, must be found guilty of antisemitism in Oliver Twist, and a particularly vicious form of the prejudice at that.          

Getting by Bigotry: What is to be done?

The conclusion that Trollope and Dickens are guilty of vicious antisemitism leaves me with a load of cognitive dissonance and emotional ambivalence.  And it’s not just the antisemitism in their works that as a Jewish person gets me down.  I am also bothered by the racism, sexism and prejudice against other ethnic groups that are written into their books and most of the novels of that time. I think that almost any decent person would experience cognitive dissonance and emotional ambivalence in reading Dickens, Trollope and the other bigoted authors.

In my case, I have read The Warden and Barchester Towers, the first two books of Trollope’s Barchester series, several times each, and enjoyed them each time.  I have read most of Dickens’ novels many times, albeit Oliver Twist only twice and part of a third time.  Over the last forty or so years, I have almost always been reading one of Dickens’ books in addition to whatever else I have been reading.  And the aforementioned Bleak House is one of my favorite novels. 

So, what is one to do?  Do I shun all of Trollope’s books, the earlier Barchester books along with the later Palliser books, because he was clearly and vilely antisemitic even if it showed only in the later books?   Or do I try to block out the fact that Trollope was antisemitic and ignore the antisemitism in his books while continuing to read them?  Or do I boycott some of his books, the clearly antisemitic Palliser novels, while continuing to read some of the others?  And the same questions arise as to Dickens. 

As I am writing this essay in October, 2021, we are living through another period of virulent racial, religious, ethnic and gender bigotry on the part of a significant and powerful segment of the American population.  The resurgent bigotry coincides with a surging human rights movement that aims to end that bigotry.  Both sides are targeting books and other cultural artifacts as symbols of their ideas.  That has created a lot of conflict between rightwing racists and liberal human rights activists, and between more and less militant supporters of the human rights movement. 

Even as right wingers, racists and misogynists are trying to eliminate books and curricula from our schools that promote racial, religious, gender, and ethnic equality, some liberal social activists are trying to eliminate books and historical figures who could be considered racist and misogynist.  While I am adamantly opposed to the efforts of the right wingers, I think that we on the liberal side need to draw some distinctions between authors and books that are just plain unacceptable and those that are acceptable with an explanation.  That is the purpose of my algorithm.  It is a guide to making these decisions.

It is in my opinion neither necessary nor proper to condemn and shun anyone who ever did anything wrong.  That would leave us with preciously few people we could accept.  If we accept only perfection, we will be left with “Only me and thee, and I am not so sure about thee,” as the saying goes.  We must be willing to appreciate the good in people who were in some respects and to some extent racist, sexist, antisemitic and prejudiced against other social groups. 

We must condemn their bigotry and neither forgive nor forget the bad they did.  But we should be able to appreciate the good in their works while critiquing the bad.  That is the function and goal of critical reading and critical thinking that we should be teaching our young people and practicing ourselves as adults.  Reading things that we conclude are wrong is a good way to help get things right.

At the same time, we should not hesitate to condemn and shun those authors and books that are beyond the Pale, as the saying goes, and that are thoroughly and viciously bigoted.  I think there is a difference between people who have done bad things and bad people. There is a point at which people have done so many bad things that they become bad people, but there are people who have done bad things without becoming bad people.  The same goes for books.  Some contain bad things but are still worth reading.  Others are too thoroughly bad and are not worth reading except either for historical purposes or for purposes of exposing and condemning them.   

That condemnation goes for Phineas Redux and Oliver Twist in my opinion.  They are antisemitic at their core and are not worth reading except as historical documents that exemplify nineteenth century bigotry.  I would shun them.  The condemnation does not go for Trollope’s Barchester novels or for Dickens’ other novels.  The prejudices in those books, which includes sexism, racism and ethnocentrism as well as antisemitism, fall within what I characterize as categories of cultural snobbery and personal distaste, genteel bigotry, and they are not integral to the main messages of those books.  With a critical and historical reading as to why and how prejudices could seem genteel to some people at some times and places, I think those are worthwhile novels.

So, how does one deal with the bigotry in our favorite authors and books?  It’s hard.  Because it is not something one can simply ignore or excuse.  The distinctions and explanations that I have offered herein do not provide a foolproof formula for deciding who and what to read and who and what to condemn.  They are an attempt to apply the principle of tolerance for the tolerant without rigidly enforcing the complementary principle of intolerance for the intolerant.  We cannot shun everyone who has done some bad things.  Within the framework of my algorithm, I think it is necessary to extend some extra level of tolerance to authors who exhibit a modest level of what might be deemed inadvertent intolerance, who are in essence genteel bigots, thereby turning the other cheek to them so long as it doesn’t then lead to a punch in the nose. 

                                                                                                                                    BW 10/21

Gustave Caillebotte’s “Paris: A Rainy Day.” Seeing Art from Outside-In and Inside-Out. Sharing a Moment and a Message within a Picture.

Gustave Caillebotte’s “Paris: A Rainy Day.”

Seeing Art from Outside-In and Inside-Out.

Sharing a Moment and a Message within a Picture.  

Burton Weltman

Preface: Looking for the Story in a Picture.

When I look at a painting, my attention is drawn first to what could be called the aesthetics of the thing.  That is, do I think it looks good.  But then I look to see whether there is a story in the painting.  That is, what do I think might have happened before and after the moment captured by the artist, why did the artist choose to represent these subjects, objects and/or shapes, and what are the relationships among them.  We humans are story-making and story-telling creatures, and I think that we tend to look for stories in almost everything we see.  And that includes paintings, even if we are not aware of our doing it. 

The stories implicit in a painting can have an effect, even if subliminal, on our appreciation of a picture.  And just as the artist’s aesthetic choices and effects can influence our view of the world around us, so, too, I think the stories embedded in a picture may affect our feelings about the world.  They may make us feel more optimistic or pessimistic, may reinforce a collective sense or an individualistic orientation, may encourage us to reflection or to action, and may otherwise reinforce or contradict our feelings about things.

I think that is particularly the case with Gustave Caillebotte’s painting of “Paris: A Rainy Day.”  It is a beautiful picture of a street corner in Paris, but it can also be seen as a humorous burlesque of the haute-bourgeoisie and a poignant gesture of human solidarity across space and time.

Describing the Painting: Who, What, and Where.

Gustave Caillebotte was one of the first and most influential of the Impressionist painters in the late nineteenth century.  “Paris: A Rainy Day” is a city-scene that was painted by Caillebotte in 1877.  It is his best-known work.  The picture has been exhibited at The Art Institute in Chicago since 1964, where it is prominently displayed and is very popular among visitors.  Combining Impressionist technique with realist results, it is a large painting and the figures in the foreground are almost life-sized.  The picture draws the viewer in.  It seems almost as though we are stepping into the action.  Most viewers look at the painting for a long time, seemingly navigating their way into and out of the scene.

The picture is set as a streetscape on a rainy day.  It portrays buildings and streets, and people walking about in the rain with umbrellas.  The buildings are massive stone structures that dwarf the people.  The brick streets are very wide, and it is a hike for people to cross them.  The people in the midground and background of the painting are dressed like office workers – lower-middle class clerks and middle managers.  They are small and seem fragile in contrast with the stolid concrete and brick surroundings.  The people are mostly huddled within themselves, seemingly buried in their own thoughts and struggling against the nasty weather.

In contrast to these straggling citizens in the midground and background, there are three upper-class, well-dressed, almost life-sized figures in the lower right-hand foreground of the picture.   Closest to us as we look at the picture is the back of a man in a black coat and top hat.  Our vantage point on the painting is as though we are walking behind him, and as though we are about to step into the street with him.  This man has an umbrella that he has tipped at a defensive angle.  He has done this because he apparently sees that he is about to crash into a man and a woman who are walking towards him with an enormous umbrella of their own, and who seem oblivious to his existence. 

These two people are in fancy dress clothes.  They are seemingly of the haute bourgeoisie, the upper middle-class, and are correspondingly haughty in their attitude.  With their noses smugly in the air, they are looking up and away from the man who is approaching them, looking at something we cannot see.  Arrogant in their ignorance of the situation, they walk as though they seem to expect others will clear the way for them as they saunter down the street.  They are wrong.  A farcical collision is only seconds away.

Looking at the Painting: What you get is what you see.

There is an arc to the focus in “Paris: A Rainy Day.”  When we look at the painting, our focus almost irresistibly goes first to the three foreground figures, the pompous man and woman and the poor man in their way.  It then shifts to a man who is in the middle of the canvas and in the midground of the perspective.  Like most of the people in the picture, this man is walking with his head down while crossing the street.  He is bedraggled and seemingly self-absorbed, huddled in thought and within himself against the nasty weather.  His attire and demeanor are in sharp contrast to the elegance and arrogance of the man and the woman.  But he is only a way-station for our attention which then moves on to a pair of men crossing the street a short distance behind him on the left side of the painting. 

This pair consists of a taller man who is closer to us and a shorter man who is half-hidden by his colleague.  The taller man is looking forward and down, like most of the other bedraggled figures in the picture, and he is seemingly trying to concentrate on crossing the wet street.  To this point, the painting seems to consist of haute-bourgeois fools and petti-bourgeois drudges.  Nobody seems to care about or be aware of anybody else, except for the man in front of us who is about to crash into the oblivious man and woman.

But as you look at the two men on the left side of the painting, you can see that the shorter man is not just wrapped up in himself and his misery.  He is looking at the three figures in the foreground and, seemingly, at us.  He is observing the imminent collision, and he seems to be sharing with us a poignant and comical moment.  He could even be winking at us.  It is this shared moment between him and us that I think is a key to this picture.    

History and the Painting: Social Order, Social Disorder, and Socialism.

Caillebotte lived a short but eventful and influential life.  Born in Paris during the revolutionary year of 1848, he lived his early years in the midst of the reconstruction of the city by Baron Haussmann, Napolean III’s major domo.  Paris had repeatedly been the center of mass revolutionary uprisings in 1789, 1830, and 1848, in which the lower classes barricaded the narrow, winding streets of the old city and thwarted the efforts of the army to put them down.  One of Hausmann’s goals was to make Paris revolution-proof.    

Toward this end, Haussmann engineered an enormous urban renewal project for Paris during the 1850’s and 1860’s in which wooden tenements for the poor were replaced by massive stone buildings for the rich, and the streets were straightened and widened to thwart blockading by lower class insurrectionists and facilitate military maneuvers by the armed forces.  The success of this project was demonstrated when the French army put down the revolutionary working-class uprising known as the Paris Commune in 1871.  The end products of Haussmann’s reconstruction are portrayed in “Paris: A Rainy Day” which features massive buildings and wide thoroughfares that he created.

Caillebotte was from a well-to-do family, and he became a lawyer and an engineer before being drafted to serve in the French army during the disastrous defeat of France in the Franco-Prussian war of 1870-1871.  This defeat led to the revolutionary Paris Commune and its vicious repression by the armed forces – some 20,000 Communards executed in a week – that influenced many artists and writers of the late nineteenth century.  It was not until after the Franco-Prussian War and the defeat of the Commune that Caillebotte turned to art as his career, and he became an early participant and promoter of the Impressionist Movement in painting. 

Caillebotte was not only a leading Impressionist painter but also a great patron of other Impressionists.  He was a wealthy man and he provided financial support to fledgling painters through buying and promoting their works.  Pissarro, Monet, and Renoir, in particular, owed a great deal to his support, as to a lesser extent did Manet, Sisley, Cezanne, and Degas.  Caillebotte was, in fact, much better known in his day for his patronage than for his paintings.  He also had the bad fortune to die young, at the age of forty-five, which cut short his career and cut down on the likelihood of his works becoming well-known in his day. 

As with many of the French Impressionist painters of this era, social class differences, working class life, and the foibles of the upper classes were featured in Caillebotte’s paintings.  These interests scandalized the art establishment of that time.  One of his first major works was “The Floor Scrapers,” a painting of shirtless workmen scraping a wooden floor which was rejected as vulgar by the authorities that controlled the art world.  Many of the Impressionists identified with the working classes and scorned the upper classes.  The smugness of the comfortably well-to-do galled them.  “Epater la bourgeoisie,” or “Stick it to the well-to-do,” was a common sentiment among French artists and intellectuals at that time.  I think this sentiment pervades “Paris: A Rainy Day.”

Viewing the Painting from Outside and Inside.

 “Paris: A Rainy Day” is widely considered by commentators to be a dreary and even depressing picture.  It is done in dark colors, mostly shades of grey, black and dark tan, that reflect the gloomy weather it portrays.  It is also full of vast empty spaces that seem to reflect a void at the core of the universe.  Most of the people in the picture are huddled into themselves, seemingly alienated from each other, using umbrellas that shield them from the rain but also from each other, just struggling to keep the wet and the chill at bay, and trying to make their way through the sterile canyons created by Haussmann’s urban renewal.  Commentators often conclude that the painting is intended to promote a feeling of isolation and desolation.     

But what about the immanent collision in the foreground?  Many commentators don’t even mention the collision that is about to occur or, if they mention it, they don’t get the humor in it.  To them, it is just part of the disorder and dismay of the scene.  And almost no one seems to get the little guy in the background and he is, I think, the key to the picture: a silent communicator from the past to those of us viewing the painting in the present, a secret sharer in our delight that the two pompous bourgeois strollers are about to get their embarrassing due.  

I don’t think “Paris: A Rainy Day” was intended to be a depressing painting, and isn’t to viewers who get past a cursory first glance and get into the picture.  To the contrary, I think that it is a funny yet poignant painting, and that is one of the reasons for its popularity.  The key is to complement an initial view of the painting from the outside with a view of the scene from the inside, and to connect with the little guy in the picture.

As I think is the case with most pictures, you can view “Paris: A Rainy Day” from an inside perspective as well as from the outside.  The conventional view of the picture as a depressing downer makes sense if you are viewing it solely from the outside.  The painting has a definitely dour aspect at a first glance, which is a glance from the outside. 

But that aspect changes when you then look at it from the inside and see the story in the picture.  Commentators who deem the picture dour must be viewing it solely from the outside, focusing on the aesthetics and missing the story.  They are perhaps seeing the proverbial forest but missing the trees.  And that is to miss much of what I think Caillebotte must have intended with this picture and much of what viewers can get from the picture.

Viewing the story in “Paris: A Rainy Day” requires you get past a merely passive appreciation of its aesthetics and get involved in the action.  And I think that viewers who take a second glance at the picture are almost invariably drawn into the scene and see themselves as participants in the action.  Standing right behind the colliding parties, and maybe close enough to the guy in front of us to become part of the collision, we almost can’t avoid imaginatively stepping into the picture.  And once we have entered the painting, we can’t help seeing ourselves in silent communication with the little guy who is looking over at us and at the farcical collision that is about to take place.  Sharing a moment of humor with him, we reach through time and space to share our common humanity.                                    

BW  9/21

Thornton Wilder’s The Bridge of San Luis Rey. Survivor’s Guilt and the Problem of Evil. A Plea for Caring, Caretaking, and Commitment.

Thornton Wilder’s The Bridge of San Luis Rey.

Survivor’s Guilt and the Problem of Evil.

A Plea for Caring, Caretaking, and Commitment.

Burton Weltman

“Of man’s first disobedience, and the fruit

Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste…

I may assert eternal providence,

And justify the ways of God to men’

Paradise Lost.  John Milton.

The Problem of Evil:  A theological question of whence comes evil in the world, and why it exists if the universe is supposedly the product of a God who is good. 

Survivor’s Guilt: A mental condition in which one feels guilty for having survived a traumatic situation that others did not survive.

Questioning the Questions in The Bridge of San Luis Rey.

“What is the answer? …. Well then, what is the question?”

Gertrude Stein on her deathbed.

The Bridge of San Luis Rey is a Pulitzer Prize winning novel by Thornton Wilder.  First published in 1927, it deals with the circumstances and consequences of a fictional disaster in which five people were ostensibly killed in Lima, Peru during the early 1700’s. Their deaths were the result of the collapse of a fictional bridge, the Bridge of San Luis Rey, that they were crossing.  The book is a philosophical/theological novel. Wilder imagined a fictional disaster and fictional characters to raise questions about God and good in the universe, the existence and persistence of evil, and the meaning of life and death. 

Using his disaster as an example of the sort of evil that happens in the real world, Wilder asked why in a universe supposedly created by a benevolent God could an accident such as this occur?  And why, he pondered, do evils such as this fall on some people – such as the five people in the novel – but not on others?  Why, in turn, do they happen at a particular time and place and not at another?  Most poignantly, how can evils such as this fit in with the plans of an almighty God who is supposedly good?  Finally, what should we think and do about evils that befall other people but from which we are spared?  In sum, Wilder asks us to think about the problem of evil in the universe and how to live with feelings of survivor’s guilt?  These questions are the focus of the book.   

The Bridge of San Luis Rey reflects social and intellectual issues particular to the 1920’s when it was written, but it poses questions that are timely at any time and it is still widely read today.  It has long been a mainstay of high school literature curriculums.  There are many reasons for its popularity.  One reason is that the book is short, barely one hundred pages.  It is also an easy read.  And on its face, the book seems to be a simple story about the lives of the five victims of the accident.  It is the sort of thing you can read in a night and teachers can assign it to high school sophomores without getting too many complaints from students.  But there is more to it than that. 

The book has an effect on readers that belies its surface simplicity, and that seems a better reason for its continuing popularity.  There is a profundity to the questions it poses and to the ways it treats them that is haunting.  I think that very few readers forget the book or the situation it describes.  It sticks with you.  And its underlying messages are complex.  Interpretations of the book differ significantly.  Is it optimistic or pessimistic, hopeful or cynical, theistic or atheistic? 

Difficulty and disagreement among readers seem to be what Wilder intended.  “The book is supposed to be puzzling and distressing,” he cautioned. That is, he explained, because “The book is in the form of a question” and does not give “a clear answer.”[1]  In fact, he warned, “a little over half the situation seems to prove something and the rest escapes or even contradicts it.”[2] 

Finding a Meaning and a Message in The Bridge of San Luis Rey: A Multi-Storied Story.

So, how does one sort through the thing?  I think one aspect of the book that is generally overlooked by interpreters, and that can be a source of puzzlement and distress as a result, is that it consists of a story within a story within a story.  There are three levels of story and these three levels are intertwined in ways that are not easy to untangle.  As such, the book is not as simple as it might seem on first reading.  And it’s easier to read than to understand.  A consideration of this aspect of the book’s structure is important, I think, toward finding meaning and a message in it. 

The first level of the book is a framework story about a Franciscan monk, Brother Juniper, who is said to have lived in the early 1700’s in Peru.  Brother Juniper did research on the lives of the five victims of the accident trying to discover the reasons why they died when they did.  The second level of story, which is the bulk of the novel, consists of biographies of the five victims, biographies that are ostensibly based on Brother Juniper’s research.  The third level is the editing of Brother Juniper’s research and the commentary on it by an ironic narrator who supposedly discovered Brother Juniper’s long-lost work and decided to edit and publish it.

Most interpreters of the book concentrate on the melodramatic biographies of the victims, give a puzzled short-shrift to Brother Juniper’s strange story (he is burned at the stake for heresy after finishing his research), and take for granted the nature and effect of the narrator’s editing and commentary.  Most interpret the book’s primary concern as being the problem of evil in the world as represented by the deaths of the five victims, which was Brother Juniper’s main concern in his researches.  I don’t agree with this focus. 

I think that the main concern of the book is with survivor’s guilt, which is the main focus of the narrator’s commentary.  I think, in turn, that the main message of the book is contained in the words and actions of the victims’ surviving friends and relatives who gather together to comfort each other at the end of the narrator’s story which closes the book.  Although Brother Juniper provided the source material for the book, and he focused on the problem of evil, it is still the narrator’s book.  The narrator has the last words and they are words of solace for survivor’s guilt. 

The purpose of this essay is to look at all three levels of story so as try to glean a message from the book’s concerns with evil and guilt.  Spoiler alert: I think that the book’s underlying message is a plea for commitment, caring, and caretaking, and I think that this underlying message is what haunts readers and accounts for its continuing relevance and popularity.

The Roaring Twenties and the Lost Generation: Surviving Survivor’s Guilt.

“I don’t know why we are here, but I am pretty sure that it is not to enjoy ourselves.”

Ludwig Wittgenstein. 1929.

It is a commonplace that you can describe almost any historical era in bipolar terms.  That is, it is almost always the best of times and the worst of times, depending on your social class and other circumstances.  Such was the case in the United States during the 1920’s.

To the wealthy few in America, and according to the mass media that they controlled, the 1920’s were the Roaring Twenties.  In sanitized histories and sensationalized movies about the period, it was the Jazz Age of stylish flappers, sexual liberation, and a perpetually rising Stock Market.  Great fortunes were made by a fortunate few and to listen to the rich, it was the best of times.

To listen to the working-classes, however, whose concerns were with falling wages and who were struggling to recover from World War I and its aftermath, it was the worst of times.  In the midst of a growing GNP and a garish display of conspicuous consumption by the rich, a majority of Americans lived below the poverty level during the 1920’s.  Most Americans experienced the 1920’s very differently than the rich, and quite differently than the popular portrait of the era as a perpetual party.  For most people, the 1920’s was a period of economic and psychological depression as they tried to recover from the horrific death and destruction of the previous decade. 

The period from 1914 to 1921 had, in fact, been one of the most deadly eras in history.  Beginning in 1914 with the start of World War I, the rest of the decade had been a slaughter of the innocents that was almost incomprehensible and that defied explanation.  The war produced a world-wide death toll of some twenty million people from 1914 to 1918, a majority of them civilians.  This was followed by a world-wide death toll of some forty million in the flu pandemic of 1918-1919.  That was followed by the economic depression of 1919-1921 in which tens of millions suffered without work or sufficient food and often died. 

In the aftermath of this horror, most people experienced the 1920’s, in the words of Gertrude Stein, the patron saint of the literati of the era, as a Lost Generation.  It was a generation that had been decimated and traumatized by the war and its aftermath, a generation of victims lost to violence, disease and poverty, and a generation of survivors, the walking wounded who were physically, emotionally and economically distressed.  Having lost faith in society and hope for the future, it felt for many people like living through the collapse of civilization. 

Things weren’t supposed to be that way.  During the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, politicians and pundits had proclaimed that with the rise of capitalist industry and free trade, there would be peace and prosperity for all and for all time.  Industry would produce a surfeit of goods so that poverty would be abolished as a cause of civil strife and war.  Free trade would connect the countries of the world in binding ties of economic cooperation that would make war impractical and even unthinkable.  Medical science and public health measures would forestall plagues like those of the past.  Perpetual peace and prosperity were guaranteed.

And it seemed to be working.  From 1815, which marked the end of the Napoleonic Wars, until 1914, the world had experienced an era of seemingly declining conflict.  There was also long-term economic growth produced by the Industrial Revolution.  Capitalists during the era claimed that business needed peace and could not tolerate the disruption and uncertainty of war, so capitalist businessmen everywhere condemned war.  Workers during the era complained that they ended up being cannon fodder in war, so workers worldwide condemned war.  All the major labor unions and progressive political parties in every nation opposed war, and almost all swore at the beginning of the twentieth century that they would not cooperate with any new wars.

But then war came in 1914 and almost all of the businessmen, workers, and progressive parties supported their home countries in what became a world war, everyone on each side claiming that their country had not started the war but had been attacked by the other side.  What became World War I marked the end of what has been called The Long Peace between 1815 and 1914.  It also marked the end of the faith that many people had felt in the economic and political system to keep the peace and sustain economic growth.  It was the end of trusting with others to keep the faith that kept the peace.  It was an era in which possessing things and controlling others became the norm.  The bridge of politics, economics and culture that had linked people and the various nations, and that had connected the past with the present and the future, had collapsed.

Although members of Gertrude Stein’s Lost Generation were diverse in many ways, survivor’s guilt and despair at the evil in the world was a common denominator among them.  Those who had survived the war, the plague, and the depression wandered and wondered why they had made it and what it meant.  Ernest Hemingway, a protégé of Stein, portrayed the tragedy of this generation in The Sun Also Rises (1926), a novel about an ex-soldier who has been sexually crippled during World War I and who is pursuing and being pursued by a promiscuous playgirl.  In The Great Gatsby (1925), F. Scott Fitzgerald, Hemingway’s buddy and another of Stein’s proteges, portrayed the dazzle, the extravagant desires, and the underlying emptiness of the era.    

It was in this context and in this company that Thornton Wilder, yet another of Stein’s proteges, wrote The Bridge of San Luis Rey.

Brother Juniper’s Quest: A Terminal Case of Survivor’s Guilt.

The Bridge of San Luis Rey pretends to be a summary of some newly rediscovered research on the lives and deaths of five accident victims in Lima, Peru by a fictional early-eighteenth century Franciscan monk named Brother Juniper.[3]  Peru was at this time a Spanish colony and Spain was a Catholic country.  Like the 1920’s in the United States, Peru in the early 1700’s was tumultuous.  Lima, the capitol city of Peru, is described as a boomtown, having gone in one generation from a huddle of shacks to a major metropolis.[4] 

It is portrayed as a time and place in which, as in America during the 1920’s, possessive relationships were the norm, and what a person owned and who the person controlled were the measures of that person.  And like the United States during the 1920’s, Lima afforded a startling contrast between the elegant mansions, theatres and public buildings that served the rich, and the hovels, stark poverty and misery of the poor.  It was the best of times and the worst of times, depending on your place in the social order.

Brother Juniper supposedly compiled his research while serving as a proselytizing missionary to the Peruvian natives.  Although his official mission was to convert the indigenous people to Catholicism, Brother Juniper’s real interest was in trying to figure out why God chose some people to die and others to live.  He was particularly troubled with why innocent people died while sinners lived on.  Seeming to echo John Milton in Paradise Lost, Brother Juniper’s goal was “to justify the ways of God to man.”[5]  It was an ambition that cost him his life.

Brother Juniper focused his research on accidental deaths, hoping to fathom how they were not really accidental but actually part of God’s plans for the universe.  In the course of this work, he became obsessed with a particular incident, the deaths of five people who perished in the collapse of a bridge that he was minutes away from crossing himself.  Why, he asked, did God choose these five people to die at this moment?  How can the tragic deaths of these five people fit in with the plan of a God who is supposed to be good? 

Brother Juniper spent six years trying to discover in the biographies of the five victims the reasons why God had chosen them to die.  He hoped, thereby, to make a science of theology and be able to rationalize everything that happened as the will of God.  But there also seemed to be a personal aspect to his research.  It seemed directed not only toward justifying God’s actions but also justifying Brother Juniper’s own survival.  Why did they die and he didn’t? Struggling with his own survivor’s guilt, Brother Juniper supposedly did the research of which The Bridge of San Luis Rey is ostensibly the result. 

Historical Context for The Bridge of San Luis Rey: What you don’t know can hurt you.

The book is set in the early 1700’s and there is historical context to Brother Juniper’s story that is important toward understanding it.  This context is not discussed in the book but I think Wilder expected the reader to know it.  A difficulty that some people have in interpreting the book may stem from their lack of historical knowledge.  Three things seem particularly relevant.  The first thing is that Brother Juniper ostensibly lived during what is often called the Scientific Revolution of the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries.  This revolution had culminated in Newton’s comprehensive scientific explanation of the laws of physics at the turn of the eighteenth century. 

Newton’s explanation of God’s physical creation seems to underly Brother Juniper’s theology about God’s spiritual realm.  Insisting that it was “high time for theology to take its place among the exact sciences,”[6] he aspired to becoming a theological scientist himself.[7]  In trying to make a science of theology, Brother Juniper seemingly expected to be able to explain all things spiritual just as Newton had ostensibly succeeded in explaining all things physical.

The second thing that I think Wilder expected readers to know is that Brother Juniper lived during what is often considered the birth of modern philosophy during the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries.  In tandem with the mechanical explanation of the material universe that was being fostered by the likes of Galileo and Newton, philosophers such as Descartes and Leibniz were developing a new mechanistic and deterministic metaphysics that encompassed all things spiritual.  It was a metaphysics that seemed to fit well with the new Newtonian physics, and it is seemingly reflected in Brother Juniper’s theology.   

In this mechanistic metaphysics, the universe was commonly compared to a clock with God in the role of a clockmaker who, having made the clock, withdraws as the clock ticks away on its own.  In this view, God was pretty much painted out of the picture of everyday life.  Things just moved along in a deterministic way, according to His plan and without His interference. 

In this philosophy, the evil that existed in the universe was rationalized as necessary to the well-functioning of the whole system.  Without evil, there can be no good.  It was in this context that Leibniz famously declared our universe to be “the best of all possible worlds.”  This was essentially Brother Juniper’s view.  He wanted to refute those who thought that the world was evil and that God was responsible for it.  Leibniz’s conclusion was one which Brother Juniper seemingly hoped to prove with his scientific theology.[8]

Brother Juniper was a fervid proselytizer, albeit promoting his new scientific theology more fervently than the conventional Catholic catechism.  In this regard, his advocacy seemed as personal as it was philosophical.  A deterministic philosophy is an excellent way to relieve oneself of survivor’s guilt.  If you explain everything as a result of cause-and-effect, the fact that you survived a disaster that killed others, or that you don’t suffer while others do, is not your own doing.  You cannot be faulted.  There was nothing you could have done.  I think this moral copout was one of the attractions of a theological science for Brother Juniper.[9]

But it was a fatal attraction because the Catholic Church in the eighteenth century condemned this new mechanistic philosophy as heretical.  And this is the third historical thing that I think Wilder seemed to expect readers to know.  Adherents of the mechanistic philosophy were often condemned by the Church and executed as heretics.  As was the fictional Brother Juniper in the book.

The Church complained that the new philosophy limited God’s discretion and subjected Him to the operation of cause-and-effect.  The mechanistic philosophy also called miracles into question, including the miracle of transubstantiation which is a key Catholic doctrine. And the new philosophy seemed to negate people’s responsibility for wrongdoing, making it an amoral and even immoral theory in the eyes of the Church. Finally, the new metaphysics seemingly inflated human understanding to God-like levels, a profound blasphemy.

In proclaiming his intention of using scientific research to ferret out God’s plans and to “surprise His intentions in a pure state,” Brother Juniper was arguably trying to fool and make a fool of God.  He was on a power-trip trying to assert his will over that of God. This was not an acceptable aspiration for a Catholic monk 

Brother Juniper was, however, seemingly unaware of the Church’s attitude toward his putative philosophy as he naively conducted his meticulous researches over the course of many years. At the time the story in The Bridge of San Luis Rey opens, he had been repeatedly frustrated in his efforts and had reached no satisfactory conclusions as to how accidental deaths were actually not accidental but, instead, fit in with God’s plan for the universe.  But then came the collapse of the Bridge of San Luis Rey and his own improbable survival, which spurred his researches anew.

Brother Juniper spent the next six years collecting information on the victims in an effort to find a reason God had willed them to die at that moment in an accident that he had narrowly missed.  And after six years, Brother Juniper claimed that “He knew the answer.”  And that he could explain for each of the victims “why God had settled upon that person and upon that day for His demonstration of wisdom” in having the person die.[10]  Brother Juniper’s conclusion was that “each of the lost lives was a perfect whole.”  Their destinies had been fulfilled – he doesn’t, however, explain how or why – and, therefore, death was the appropriate next step for them.[11] 

Brother Juniper was himself rewarded for his efforts by being burned at the stake as a heretic, and having his research suppressed for centuries.  No sooner had Brother Juniper finished his work, the narrator reports, than the book “was suddenly pronounced heretical.  It was ordered to be burned in the Square with its author.”  The narrator says that Brother Juniper did not understand where he had gone wrong, but blithely accepted his fate and died with a smile on his face.  Had he concluded that his life had become whole and warranted ending?  It’s not clear.[12] 

The Five Victims: The End of the Beginning.

“Come into my parlour,” said the spider to the fly.  The Spider and the Fly.  Mary Howitt.  1829.

Power trips, with people trying to establish possessive relationships of control over others, are at the heart of the story of the five victims in The Bridge of the San Luis Rey.  The book portrays a power trip society, full of people trying to control others, from the Viceroy and Archbishop at the top of the social ladder to the servants at the bottom.  And that includes the five victims as well.  Some of them trying to spin webs of power and control to catch others by surprise, even God.  Others getting caught in webs of possessive relationships from which they struggle to get free.

In a possessive relationship, the controller is ostensibly acting in the interests of the other’s welfare, but is really acting in the controller’s own selfish interests.  Controllers in possessive relationships can’t pass the Golden Rule litmus test: Are the controllers doing to others what they would have done to them if they were in the others’ situation?  Each of the victims of the disaster was caught up in one or more possessive relationships, either as the controller or the controlled, and the raveling and unraveling of these relationships is what moves the plot in the book.

In editing Brother Juniper’s researches, the narrator focuses one by one on the backstories of each of the five victims leading up to the accident.  Their lives and backstories intersect with each other, with each of them vainly attempting to dominate others and control their circumstances.  The crisscrossing strands of their lives make for a tangled web of influences in which the characters are caught, and into which we are drawn and our interest caught.    

The book could have had a conventional happy ending if the victims had not died.  Near the end, and near their ends, each saw a way out of the power-tripping and power-traps in which they had been caught.  They were just about to start new lives in which they would freely engage in sharing relationships very different from the possessive relationships in which they had been caught.  Each had an epiphany or change of heart that Brother Juniper seemed to have considered an equivalent of last rites, a repentance that completed their lives and made them ready to die.[13] 

  But that is not how the victims saw their changes of mind and heart, nor does the narrator.  They saw their awakenings as the beginnings of a new way of life, not a prelude to death.  They saw themselves beginning a new course of action and interaction that they never got to complete because of the accident.  Each of them was literally traveling on the road to start this new life when suddenly they died.  The tragedy of their stories is that they all had finally freed themselves, but then died before they could exercise that freedom.

The Marquesa de Montemayor: Death in Life and Life in Death.

The Marquesa de Montemayor was a loser in life who became a big winner in death.  In life, she was publicly ridiculed as an ugly, awkward, slovenly, ill-mannered, and ignorant woman, the wife of an elegant man who had died young and the mother of a beautiful and accomplished daughter, both of whom scorned her.  Her husband had married her for her money and then essentially abandoned her.  Her daughter had from an early age been ashamed of her repugnant mother.  The Marquesa doted on her daughter and was driven into paroxysms of effort to make the girl love her.  Nonetheless, when the daughter came of age, she immediately married a Spaniard and moved to Spain to get away from her mother.[14] 

In death, the Marquesa came to be considered one of the most brilliant writers in Spanish history.  With her daughter in Spain, the Marquesa took to writing her long descriptive letters about all that was happening in Lima.  Hoping to attract and entrap her daughter with the beauty of her letters, she studied writing and forced herself to go out in public, weathering the insults that she received from almost everyone she met, in order to gather material for the letters.  And they were beautiful letters, so beautiful that after the Marquesa’s death, they came to be considered Spanish national treasures and became required reading for Spanish school children.[15] 

The letter-writing snare didn’t, however, work on the Marquesa’s daughter.  So, she changed tactics and, having previously been an atheist, she turned to God for help, becoming fanatically and superstitiously religious.  She prayed obsessively to God and tried to bribe Him with all sorts of obeisance and monetary contributions to the Church to get him to get her daughter to love her.  That didn’t work either. She could control neither her daughter nor God.[16] 

But in the end, the Marquesa had an epiphany.  She came to realize that hers had been a selfish love.  The narrator comments that “She loved her daughter not for her daughter’s sake, but for her own.” [17]  She recognized that her love had been proudful, egotistical, and selfish, and that she had loved her daughter as a possession instead of a person.  “She longed to throw off the burden of pride and vanity” that she carried.  And she became reconciled “to permitting both her daughter and her gods to govern their own affairs.”  She would henceforth love them for their sake, not for hers.  Vowing that “Tomorrow I begin a new life,” she prayed to God “Let me live now” and “Let me begin again.”[18]  But she died instead.

Estaban: His Brother’s Keeper.

Estaban and Manuel were identical twin brothers who grew up in an orphanage run by the Abbess, Madre Maria del Pilar.  The Abbess was a saintly person who supported and promoted most of the charitable efforts and enterprises in Lima.  The brothers were inseparable.  The narrator comments that love was an inadequate word to describe the feeling that the brothers had for each other.  They needed, integrated and complemented each other to the depths of their being.[19]  They were possessed by each other.  Having been educated in the orphanage, they worked as scribes for the largely illiterate populace of Lima.  They, nonetheless, rarely talked, except in an idiosyncratic code to each other.[20]  They were a world of their own.

It came to pass that Manual was hired to write some secret love letters for a beautiful actress known as the Perichole, and he became completely besotted with her.  Although Manual never said anything to his brother, Estaban knew about Manual’s infatuation with the actress and it pained him that Manual’s affections were directed elsewhere.  In turn, although Estaban said nothing of his pain to Manual, Manual knew that Estaban was suffering.  So, for the sake of his brother, Manual willed himself to stop loving the Perichole.  And “All at once,” the narrator says, “in one unhesitating stroke of he will, he removed the Perichole from his heart.”[21]

Life for the brothers then returned to normal until one day Manual cut himself and, after a long period of suffering, he died of gangrene.  Estaban was literally beside himself.  Since no one could tell the brothers apart, he decided to take possession of his brother’s identity, and pretending that it was he who had died, he went about as Manual.[22]  Suffering from what can be described as survivor’s guilt, Estaban was unable to cope with the loss of his brother and became something of a derelict.  He even tried to commit suicide. 

In the end, the Abbess convinced a ship captain to give Estaban a job, and Estaban developed a close relationship with the sailor, eventually even admitting to him that he was Estaban and not Manual.[23]  The captain, who had suffered a terrible loss when his beloved daughter had died, convinced Estaban that the purpose of life is to live for others, and not try to possess them or be possessed by them.  Under the influence of the captain, Estaban experienced a change of heart and purpose.  He was walking on his way to board the ship to begin his new life when he died.[24]   

Uncle Pio: A Platonic Pygmalion.

Uncle Pio was a middle-aged raconteur who moved from one thing to another, spurning success in favor of power over people.  He especially sought the presence, confidence and control of beautiful women with whom his relationship was always purely Platonic.  He had a “passion for overseeing the lives of others,” helping them to succeed, especially as actresses, but on his own terms.  “What was there in the world more lovely,” he would say to himself, “than a beautiful woman doing justice to a Spanish masterpiece” of the stage.[25] 

While working as servant and spy for the Spanish Viceroy in Peru, Uncle Pio came upon a beautiful twelve-year-old girl living in the streets.  The narrator tells us that “He bought her,” apparently paying money to her guardians or captors in order to gain possession of her.  And then he taught her to be a great actress, the Perichole. 

Despite her great success – she was reputed to be the best actress in the Spanish world – Uncle Pio managed to keep her in psychological thrall.  Her greatest passion was to please him with her performance as an actress, but she never did.  “Only perfection would do,” she mourned, “only perfection, and that had never come.”   Uncle Pio could always find some fault in her performances, something to drive her toward perfection and keep her in his power.[26]

At the peak of her success on the stage, the Perichole became the mistress of the Spanish Viceroy.  At that point, she eschewed both the stage and Uncle Pio, and sought to reinvent herself as a lady.  Hoping to escape her possessive relationship with Uncle Pio, she fell into a competitive relationship for power with the Viceroy.  He sought to dominate her through ridicule and she took on lovers as way of dominating him.[27] 

This erstwhile idyll came to an end when the Perichole came down with smallpox.  She survived, but was rendered ugly.  Devastated by the loss of her good looks, she retired to the countryside to live as a recluse with her beloved son, Jaime.  Having escaped the control of Uncle Pio and the Viceroy, she now doted and depended on Jaime, who was completely in her thrall.[28]  

Uncle Pio came to the rescue.  Despite having been scorned by her, he had come to realize that he genuinely cared about the Perichole, and he sought to see her and help her.  Both proud and ashamed, she rebuffed Uncle Pio’s efforts to see her until he tricked her into a meeting.  At that meeting, he offered to take her son Jaime to Lima for a year or so to teach him to be a gentleman.  It was an offer that came from the goodness of his heart and was solely for her and Jaime’s sake.

The Perichole, in turn, saw that Uncle Pio’s offer might be Jaime’s only chance to become something and somebody in the world.  So, she agreed to give up control of Jaime and let him go with Uncle Pio.  Uncle Pio and Jaime were walking into Lima to start Jaime’s new life when the bridge collapsed with them on it.  The narrator reports that as they approached the bridge, Jaime was getting tired and wanted to stop for a rest.  In a tone dripping with his usual irony, the narrator reports that “Uncle Pio said that when they had crossed the bridge, they would sit down and rest, but it turned out not to be necessary.”[29]

Pepita and Jaime: Victimless Victims.

“Listen, even if we assume that every adult must suffer because his suffering is necessary to pay for eternal harmony, do tell me, for God’s sake, where the children come in.”

            Ivan Karamazov in The Brothers Karamazov.  Fyodor Dostoevsky.

Two of the five victims of the bridge collapse were children, a little girl named Pepita and the little boy Jaime.  They had been the objects of possessive relationships that were in the process of changing when they died.  In the case of Jaime, he was just gaining his freedom from the smothering hold of his mother and getting the opportunity of an independent life when he died. 

In the case of Pepita, she was about to gain independence from the Abbess, whose ward she was.     The Abbess is portrayed by the narrator as a saint with a catch.  He says of her that “Her plain face had great kindliness, and more idealism than kindliness, and more generalship than idealism.”[30]  This seems to be the narrator’s ironic way of saying that the Abbess was on a power-trip that included caring and caretaking, but was mainly about power.  The Abbess had hoped to groom Pepita as her successor in her various charitable enterprises.   Pepita was, thus, a benefactor of the Abbess’ caring and caretaking but also a victim of her power-tripping.

As part of the Abbess’ training of Pepita, she wanted Pepita to learn patience, obedience and forbearance.  Toward this end, the Abbess rented Pepita to the Marquisa to serve as a handmaid.  The Abbess scorned the Marquisa as a mean and heartless witch, and she envisioned that Pepita would find it unpleasant, embarrassing and difficult to be with her.  The Abbess thought that being handmaid to someone as nasty and uncouth as the Marquisa would be an ideal indenture for Pepita.[31]  Pepita was completely enthralled by the Abbess, and all she lived for was to try to please the Abbess.[32]  The Abbess was repenting and reconsidering her relationship with Pepita, and Pepita was enroute with the Marquesa to see the Abbess when Pepita died.

To the narrator of the book, the fate of these two young victims is the ultimate test of Brother Juniper’s claim that God has made ours to be the best of all possible worlds.  And, as the narrator portrays the situation, Brother Juniper’s claim fails the test.  These children were innocent. Jaime was a good boy.  And Pepita was saint-like in her goodness and even martyr-like in her willingness to submit to whatever the Abbess wanted her to do.  Unlike the Marquesa, Uncle Pio and even Estaban, these two children had nothing to repent and their lives were clearly just beginning and developing, rather than coming to completion. 

To justify their deaths, Brother Juniper had to fall back on the time-worn excuse that “pains were inserted into their lives for their own good.”[33]  He had to rationalize that good is the overcoming of evil, so that if there were no evil in the world, there would be no good.  If life was too easy, there would be no virtuous effort.  Bad is good for us, so the best possible world includes evil.  But this claim does not seem to convince the narrator and, in turn, does not seem convincing to the reader.     

The Narrator: All You Need Is Love.

“Abide in faith, hope and charity, but the greatest of these is charity.”

                 St. Paul. 1Corinthians13. King James Bible.

The ultimate storyteller in the book is the anonymous narrator.  Although he has ostensibly based the book on Brother Juniper’s work, he has edited Brother Juniper’s materials and inserted his own comments.  As a result, it is really his book.  And, significantly, he takes a skeptical view of Brother Juniper’s project and Brother Juniper’s conclusions.  He seems to think that there is more to the universe than in Brother Juniper’s theology and more to the victims’ lives than Brother Juniper, or anyone else for that matter, could sufficiently fathom to declare those lives to be whole and, therefore, worthy of ending.  The book is colored with his irony and skepticism.

The narrator seems to be a man of modern times, albeit circa 1927 when the book was published.  As such, he would likely be aware that Newton’s laws of physics, which were the big new thing in science during Brother Juniper’s time, had been overwritten in the early twentieth century by Einstein’s theories of relativity.  Absolute space and time had given way to relative space-time.  In the same year The Bridge of San Luis Rey was published, Werner Heisenberg proclaimed his Uncertainty Principle in quantum mechanics.  The physical science upon which Brother Juniper hoped to base his theology had become obsolete.

The narrator would also know that just as physics had transitioned from Newton’s absolute laws to Einstein’s relativity theories, the main theories in philosophy in the United States had transitioned during the early twentieth century from mechanistic determinism to pragmatist instrumentalism, and from the search for absolute truth about the universe to the resolution of empirical problems with probable solutions.  The predominant theory was the instrumentalism of John Dewey, which focused on concrete problem-solving rather than abstract metaphysics.  As such, the philosophical underpinnings of Brother Juniper’s new theology no longer held up.

Finally, the narrator would be aware that a main theological controversy among Christians in the United States in the early twentieth century was between fundamentalists and adherents of the Social Gospel.  Fundamentalists focused on the Bible as a book of mandatory beliefs and rules.  The Social Gospel focused on Jesus as a social worker who preached and practiced loving one’s neighbor and charity toward all.  The conflict between the two views had recently been highlighted in the so-called Scopes Monkey Trial on evolution in 1925. 

The narrator’s editing of Brother Juniper’s findings and his commentary on them reflect an awareness of modern science, pragmatist philosophy and Social Gospel theology, and a sympathy with those ideas, especially the Social Gospel.  He opens the book with a characteristically caustic remark that “Some say that we shall never know and that to the gods we are like the flies that the boys kill on a summer day, and some say, on the contrary, that the very sparrows do not lose a feather that has not been brushed away by the finger of God.”[34]  The former view is that of deists, atheists, agnostics and adherents of the Social Gospel who think that the natural world runs on its own, either without the intervention of God or without any intervention of which we can be aware.  The latter view is that of fundamentalists who see God everywhere and in everything.

Brother Juniper was obsessed with the question of evil – why was there evil in the world if God is good – and with survivor’s guilt – why did innocent people die while he lived on.  As a result, Brother Juniper insisted on the fundamentalist view. He insisted that God had planned everything that happens to us; He has planned it for the good of all; and we can discover His plan.  In this way, Brother Juniper thought that he could rationalize the evil in the world and assuage his survivor’s guilt.  His was, however, a contradictory conclusion. 

Brother Juniper asserted, on the one hand, that God had a possessive relationship with humans and controlled everything.  But he also asserted, on the other hand, that humans could comprehend God’s plan and, in effect, take control of it.  Brother Juniper was essentially trying to establish what could be deemed a possessive relationship with God in which he was the one who possessed God rather than God who possessed him.  That does not seem to be a sustainable position, especially for a Catholic monk.

The narrator is inclined to the former view, that God’s ways, means and purposes are unfathomable to us.  The narrator’s answer to questions about God’s plan seems to be “Don’t ask.”  If there is a God, He does not answer to us.  So, it is foolish to ask questions about God’s plan.  And it is arrogant.  It can even be dangerous, since asking such questions about God’s plan could be considered blasphemous by the religious authorities, and claiming to have the answers may be considered heresy.  In any case, it is vain to try to deal this way with the problem of evil and with survivor’s guilt.  Love is a better way. 

The Bridge of San Luis Rey is a book about love, both controlling love and caring love, possessive love and liberating love, selfish love and selfless love.  Each of the five victims was involved in a loving relationship, but they were possessive relationships that ultimately did not work.  The Marquesa’s love for her daughter, for example, was possessive and obsessive.  She wanted to control her daughter’s life and force her daughter to love her for her sake and not for her daughter’s. 

The brothers’ love for each other was possessive to the point of the surviving brother pretending to be his brother when the other brother died.  Each brother honored the other to the point of disappearing.  Pepita was the victim of the Abbess’ desire to make the girl into her successor, which was for the sake of the Abbess and not Pepita.  The Abbess loved, and sought to groom, what the Abbes saw of herself in the girl.    

Uncle Pio’s love for the Perichole was similarly possessive and controlling in a Pygmalion way.   He took a street urchin and made her into a great performer, but for his sake and not for hers. Uncle Pio’s caring for the little boy Jaime was similar, but with an important difference.  He intended to make a gentleman of the boy for the boy’s sake and not for his own.     

The narrator, and by extension the author, chose to close the book with a speech that the Abbess made to honor the five victims of the bridge accident and to comfort the family and friends who survived them.  The Marquesa’s daughter was there, having returned from Spain to do good works in her mother’s name.  The Perichole was there, having come out of seclusion to do good works for the poor.  And the Abbess was there, having repented of trying to use Pepita to enhance her charitable empire. The survivors were changed people.[35] 

The Abbess concluded her oration with the consolation that “There is a land of the living and a land of the dead and the bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning.”[36]  These are the last words of the book and they are generally taken as the message of the book.  I agree but with a different slant than the usual interpretation. 

In citing the speech, most interpreters claim the moral of the story is that feelings of love constitute an eternal spiritual connection between the living and the dead.  The emphasis is on feelings of love.  I don’t think that what Wilder had in mind is merely feelings of love.  Feelings are too facile and fragile.  I suggest that the meaning of the Abbess’ speech and the moral of the book lies, instead, in acts of care, caring and commitment that constitute the core of love. 

Wilder frequently said that his writings reflected his desire to promote the values of “faith, hope and charity.”  The phrase “faith, hope and charity” is the translation in the King James version of the New Testament of a widely quoted phrase in a letter written by Saint Paul.  The word that is translated as “charity” in the King James Bible is translated as “love” in most versions of Saint Paul’s letter, including the Catholic version.  As such, it is not surprising to see the Catholic Abbess using the word “love” to describe the bond between the living and the dead.  But I think Wilder meant us to think “charity.”  Not charity in the sense of patronizing handouts, but charity in the form of caring, caretaking and commitment.

I think that Wilder intends us to see charity, or acts of love, is a way of dealing with the problem of evil and the curse of survivor’s guilt without denying them.  It is also a way of giving meaning to life and death.  Emotional love is not enough.  What people feel as emotional love can pass with their passing.  But acts of love can reverberate with others, multiply through the generations, and thereby live on forever. 

The message seems to be that charity is the bridge between the living and the dead, the link between the past, present and future.  Starting with acts of commitment, caring and caretaking toward the living, followed by acts of commitment, caring and caretaking toward the things that the dead cared about in life.  The message is that we who survive do so in order to do good.  For Wilder, a non-combat veteran of World War I, and other Lost Generation survivors of the war and its aftermath, there was, he was saying, a way to justify their existence.

Even if we cannot find a meaning for the universe, and cannot resolve the problem of evil, that doesn’t mean there can be no meaning to our lives.  Whether or not there is a God who created the universe, and whether or not He has a plan, we are the caretakers of each other and the earth, and it is our caring that gives meaning to our lives.  That is, I think, the moral of The Bridge of San Luis Rey and a main reason that it still resonates today. 

The last and lasting image of the book is not of a disaster in which a disparate bunch of people fell to their deaths, but a group of the victims’ friends and relatives gathered together to do honor and service in their name.  Not the deaths of the victims but the charity of their survivors is the point of the book.

                                                                                                            BW 6/21


[1] Thornton Wilder.  The Bridge of San Luis Rey.  Harper-Collins. New York, 2014.  P. 108.

[2] Ibid. P. 106.

[3] Ibid. P. 16.

[4] Ibid. P. 59.

[5] Ibid. P. 15.

[6] Ibid. 14.

[7] Ibid. P.14-15.

[8] Ibid. P. 80.

[9] Ibid. P.15.

[10] Ibid. P. 16.

[11] Ibid. Pp. 15-16, 39.

[12] Ibid. P. 85.

[13] Ibid. P.38.

[14] Ibid. Pp. 17-18.

[15] Ibid. P.33.

[16] Ibid. Pp. 20, 31.

[17] Ibid. P.21.

[18] Ibid. Pp. 34, 37-38.

[19] Ibid. P. 41.

[20] Ibid. P. 40.

[21] Ibid. P.47.

[22] Ibid. P.51.

[23] Ibid. P. 55.

[24] Ibid. P. 57.

[25] Ibid. Pp. 62-63, 69.

[26] Ibid. Pp. 64, 66. 

[27] Ibid. P.24.

[28] Ibid. P. 74.

[29] Ibid. P. 78.

[30] Ibid. P. 30.

[31] Ibid. P. 24, 29.

[32] Ibid. P. 30.

[33] Ibid. P.15,

[34] Ibid. P.16.

[35] Ibid. Pp.87-89.

[36] Ibid. p.91.

Van Gogh’s Socialism in “The Starry Night.” It’s about the village.

Van Gogh’s Socialism in

“The Starry Night.”

It’s about the village.

Burton Weltman

Preface:

When I look at a painting, my attention is drawn first to what could be deemed the aesthetics of the thing. That is, do I think it looks good.  But then I look to see whether there is a story in the painting. That is, what do I think might have happened before and after the moment captured by the artist, why did the artist choose to represent these subjects, objects and/or shapes, and what might be the relationships among them.  We humans are story-making and story-telling creatures, and I think that we tend to look for stories in almost everything we see.  And that includes paintings, even if we are not aware of our doing it. 

The stories implicit in a painting can have an effect, even if subliminal, on our appreciation of a picture.  And just as the artist’s aesthetic choices and effects can influence our view of the world around us, so, too, I think the stories embedded in a picture may affect our feelings about the world.  They may make us feel more optimistic or pessimistic, may reinforce a collective sense or an individualistic orientation, may encourage us to reflection or to action, and may otherwise reinforce or contradict our feelings about things.

I think that is the case with Van Gogh’s painting The Starry Night and it may be one of the reasons for its popularity.

Together in an Enormous universe. 

I have a calendar of Van Gogh paintings.  The featured picture for April is The Starry Night that is exhibited at the Museum of Modern Art in New York.  The Starry Night is a very popular painting.  It is one of the most widely reproduced paintings in the world.  It has become an icon of popular culture.  There is even a hit song about it, Starry Starry Night by Don McLean.  What is it that makes it such a popular picture?

The painting portrays some stars and the moon in the sky, and some mountains, fields and a village on the earth below.  It appears to be early dawn.  The sky and the general landscape are apparently based on the view from van Gogh’s window.  The village that was inserted into the landscape was based on his imagination and/or memories.

I was looking at the picture this morning when something dawned on me.  Everything that I have read or heard about the picture focuses on the stars, which is not surprising given that the painting is called The Starry Night.  But maybe the painting is primarily about the village, and maybe the village is one of its primary attractions.

It is a menacing and almost scary picture.  The swirling exaggerated stars.  The whirling exaggerated moon.  What looks like a billowing wind visually blowing across the sky.  Dark ominous mountains.  A sinister-looking cypress in the left foreground.  Agitated foliage in the background.  Nature seems to be alive and not wishing us well.

But in the lower-middle of the picture is a peaceful little town.  Houses with lights on in some of the windows.  And a church steeple that stands straight and tall in the midst of all this churning motion and emotion, and seems to show defiance to the menacing elements.  It is a picture of a community that offers some comfort to the viewer.  Huddled together we can help each other get through the difficult night and make it to a better dawn.

Van Gogh was an ardent socialist.  The Starry Night might reflect his vision of collective security in the midst of a turbulent world.  And that comforting image may be one of the keys to the painting’s popularity.

Postscript: Isn’t it ironic that the works of a poverty-stricken painter, and an avowed socialist no less, who intended his paintings to be about and for poor workers and peasants, sell today for tens of millions of dollars and are owned only by rich people and rich institutions?  And for the most part can be seen only by those with considerable means.  It will cost you $25 to see The Starry Night at the Museum of Modern Art.  $16 if you are a senior citizen and only $14 dollars if you can prove you are a full-time student.  A bit stiff for Van Gogh’s intended audience.

                                                                                                                        BW  4/21  

An atheistic God. An agnostic afterlife. Thornton Wilder’s Our Town. A Thought Experiment.

An atheistic God. An agnostic afterlife.

Thornton Wilder’s Our Town.

A Thought Experiment.

Burton Weltman

Emily: “Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it?”

The Stage Manager: “The saints and poets, maybe.”

Our Town.  Thornton Wilder.

Prologue: A Haunted Town.

Our Town is a play by Thornton Wilder about life and death in a small New Hampshire town during the early 1900’s.  It was written in 1938 and reflects a sharp contrast between living in the two eras.  It is a haunting play that can be both comforting and discomforting.  It focusses on the friendship, courtship and marriage of two main characters, Emily and George.  In the closing scene, Emily dies and her ghost, after complaining that she had never realized the fullness of life while she was living, returns to her twelfth birthday party to try to experience and appreciate the whole of the event.  But it’s a disappointment, and Emily returns to her grave and to the process of becoming dead to the world.  

In the conventional interpretation of Our Town, Wilder is supposedly telling us to try to grasp and appreciate each moment of our lives before it is too late.  But I don’t think that’s the half of it, and I don’t think that this conventional interpretation can explain the persistent popularity of the play and the way it seems to haunt its viewers.  The purpose of this essay is to try to explain what I think Wilder was trying to say and what I think is the hold that his play has on us.    

Setting the Scene: The World in 1938.

It is 1938.  The world is in turmoil, overwhelmed with social, economic, political and cultural conflicts.  The only constant seems to be change, and that for the worse.  Just when the economy seemed to be reviving, the Great Depression has deepened again.  Nazism and fascism are entrenched in much of Europe and gaining footholds elsewhere.  The civil war between fascists and republicans in Spain, and Japan’s invasion of China, seem to be preludes to another world war.  Racism and antisemitism are rampant almost everywhere.  Anguish has become the norm.

Conventional nostrums about God and Heaven, that were taken as eternal verities by past generations, seem no longer to comfort many people.  Science and philosophy have seemingly removed God from the daily running of the universe and reduced Him to the role of set designer and organizer of a world that then runs itself.  Whatever people say they believe about God, He has for many people become only a Sunday observance, which is what Nietzsche meant when he declared near the turn of the twentieth century that God is dead.  God is no longer seen by most people as the director of the world but merely a stage manager. 

At the same time, science and psychology have been debunking the idea of a soul that somehow exists separately from a person’s body and that lives on after the body is dead.  Dreams of Heaven have dissolved for many people, and despair has become the order of their day.

In the midst of this dismal, dizzying, and distraught world, Wilder wondered in Our Town whether and how people can get a grasp on their lives.  Is there meaning in the universe?  What, if anything, can we make of life and death?  Our Town was an attempt to address these questions.  

Setting the Stage: Visiting Our Town.

Our Town is set in a sleepy New England town in the early twentieth century.  It focuses on the childhood friendship, adolescent romance, and happy marriage of its two main characters, Emily and George, and ends with Emily’s death.  There are only a few other characters in the play, the immediate family and friends of Emily and George.  The play portrays a simple and slow-paced world that is in sharp contrast with the world of 1938 in which it was written.[1] 

The play was an immediate success – Wilder won a Pulitzer Prize for it – and it remains popular today, over eighty years later.  It has been filmed several times, repeatedly revived in theaters across the country, and frequently performed by high school theater classes.  Edward Albee has called it “the greatest American play ever written.” [2] 

The play’s popularity may be due in part to the fact that it is relatively simple to produce.  It requires only a small number of actors, most with very small parts, and a minimalist set, just some chairs, tables, trestles, and a stepladder.  But it is more than that.  The play has a haunting effect, and not only because ghosts play a role in it.  It has become a part of our cultural repertoire because it asks important questions about whether and how we can grasp our lives and find meaning in the whirl of the universe around us. 

Our Town is set between 1901 and 1913 and, significantly, ends just before the beginning of World War I in 1914.  World War I marked the dissolution of what has been called “the Long Peace” that existed between the end of the Napoleonic Wars, in 1815, and 1914.  The play is set during the calm before the storm that began with World War I and that was still raging in 1938.

Although many horrible things happened in the world during the nineteenth century, major wars were few and far between.  Wars were relatively small-scale affairs and mainly affected people who had the misfortune to live on the battlefields.  It was an era – the Victorian Era in England – when the world seemed to consist primarily of small-scale local societies in which people mainly did what their ancestors had done, and passed on their ways to their children.  It was a world of small towns and villages inhabited by small-scale farmers, craftsmen and tradesmen.  Nations and international relations – multinational commerce, culture and conflicts – existed, but had relatively little effect on most localities. 

From the vantage point of the industrialized, urbanized, centralized and international world of 1938, the era of the Long Peace could seem relatively bucolic.  That era came to a crashing end with World War I.  The war eradicated the security of once isolated localities.  The enormity of the death and destruction gave the lie to comforting beliefs of God and Heaven.  A so-called Lost Generation of physically and psychologically maimed soldiers emerged from the trenches in Europe.  A redrawn map of the world also emerged, based in large part on the vengeance of the victorious nations and inspiring revanchist motives of revenge in the losers.  The war and its aftermath created the dire circumstances that became the distraught world of 1938. 

In setting his play in a small town during the early 1900’s, Wilder was harkening back to an earlier time when things were seemingly slower, simpler and more civil, in contrast with the world of his present day.  It was a time when people could believe that God was in His Heaven and was keeping things well in the universe.  But Wilder’s is not a simple picture of the past and, as a result, the play can seem both comforting and discomforting.

On its surface, the play seems to pay nostalgic homage to a time and place where life was mellow and the living was relatively easy.  The action consists mainly of a small town’s daily routine that seems almost as eternal as the rising and setting of the sun and the changing of the seasons. Each day starts with deliveries by the milkman and the newspaper boy.  Then people get up, have breakfast and go off to work or school.  They greet each other in the street with an easy familiarity.  All is cordiality.  In the evening, they eat dinner and go to bed.  Although time passes, kids grow up, and adults grow older, the routine seems to stay the same. 

We in the audience are treated as though we are visitors to the town. Characters speak directly to us, telling us things about the history, geography, demography, and culture of the town.  They are genial and seem self-satisfied.  There is a Stage Manager who is a character in the play and is our tour guide to the town.  We are treated as guests and made to feel at home.  It is as though it is our town, and that seems comforting. 

But underneath and undermining this comforting routine, there are accidents, illnesses, and suicides.  Deaths abound and are all around.  This includes the death in childbirth of Emily, which comes as a shock to us in the audience as well as to her loved ones in the play.  Hopes are frequently crushed in the play and the best laid plans go awry.  When you look at what is happening behind the façade of ordinariness, the universe begins to feel like an uncertain proposition, even a scary place. 

In the last scene, we visit with the ghosts of dead people, including Emily, who are inhabiting their graves and gradually becoming spiritually as dead to the world as their bodies already are.  Theirs is a grim outlook on their past lives and on what may become of them in the future.  Reflecting on her past, Emily’s ghost cries out in dismay that she didn’t fulfill her life or appreciate it enough.  The play leaves us with questions about where is God?  What is Heaven?  Is this all there is?  The universe now seems like a mean and meaningless place.[3]

Comforting on the surface.  Discomforting underneath.  So, what is going on here?  What is Wilder trying to say?  What are we to think?

Thought Experiments and Theories of Relativity.

Our Town is, I think, a thought experiment.  A thought experiment is an imagined situation through which a hypothesis is dramatized for purposes of trying to predict its potential consequences.  It is a method of theorizing how something might turn out through mentally simplifying it and then thinking it through.  The key is to reduce a complex situation down to a small number of variables that can be mentally manipulated.  A thought experiment is useful when you have a problem for which you are unable to gather empirical evidence to solve it.  A requirement of a scientific thought experiment is that it be made public and be open to verification and refutation by others.  That is essentially what the play Our Town does.

Many important scientific theories have been originally based on thought experiments that were subsequently supported by empirical evidence.  Among these is Galileo’s Theory of the Relativity of Motion, which says that if two things are in relative motion to each other, you cannot say which one is moving and which is at rest.  There is no absolute frame of reference and no way to grasp absolutely the speed of the motion.

Einstein’s Special Theory of the Relativity of Motion was also initially a thought experiment.  It says, among other things, that the speed of light is the same for all no matter whether or not they are in relative motion to each other.  As with Galileo’s theory, there is no absolute frame of reference, except for the speed of light which is absolute and which moves faster than anything else in the universe.  Nothing else can move at the speed of light, and you cannot catch up to a beam of light.  It moves too fast to fathom.

Galileo and Einstein began by imagining these theories, supporting them with images and arguments.  Then they and other scientists were able to confirm the theories through empirical observations and experiments, so that they come down to us as established scientific principles.

Our Town can be seen as a thought experiment in the relativity of the motion of human life.  The play poses a hypothesis that if human life can be reduced to its basics, can be sufficiently slowed and simplified, people will be able to realize their potential and appreciate their lives.  They will, in turn, be able to grasp the past, hold on to the present, and project themselves into the future.   Wilder has seemingly dramatized this hypothesis in Our Town in hopes that we the audience may see how it plays out, and verify or refute his conclusions.

The conventional interpretation of Our Town is essentially a variation on the admonition carpe diem, seize the day.  In this view, Wilder is telling us to appreciate each moment of life as though it may be our last.  In this view, Emily’s problem is that she “never fully appreciated all she possessed until she lost it.”[4]  The implication is that Emily was somehow negligent in failing to realize during her life what she had when she had it, as are almost all of the rest of us. And the message of the play, in this interpretation, is for us to try harder to be more appreciative of life while we can.   

I don’t think this interpretation is satisfactory.  It begs the question of whether Wilder thinks people can properly appreciate their lives and, if so, how.  In the closing scene of the play, Emily’s ghost is sitting around with other ghosts in their respective graves waiting for something to happen.  It is a seemingly agnostic picture of the immediate afterlife.  The ghosts expect something to happen to them but they don’t know what or when.  They are all of them losing touch with their past lives and past selves, apparently sinking into amorphousness.  At that point, Emily’s ghost decides to go back to her early life in order to re-experience it and try to grasp the experience in its entirety. 

But Emily can’t experience even the simplest event in its entirety.  There is too much going on all around her, and it goes by too fast for her to grasp it.  As soon as she tries to focus on something in the present, it becomes the past.  She can’t hold it up or catch up with it.  “I can’t look at everything hard enough,” she complains, “It goes so fast.  We don’t have time to look at one another.”  She finds the experience intolerable, so she returns to her vigil with the other ghosts, waiting in their graves for they know not what.[5] 

This experience of Emily’s ghost seems to contradict the conventional interpretation of the play. Trying harder did not help Emily to appreciate her life.  Wilder’s thought experiment seems, in fact, to demonstrate the impossibility of appreciating even a single event in your life, let alone grasping the whole of it, no matter how hard you try to pay attention. 

This seems to be the case even when you place that person’s life in a simple setting, such as a sleepy small town, and when you imagine that life as a simple procession of childhood, adolescence and marriage.  No matter what the relative speed of life in the sleepy town of the early 1900’s as compared with the speed of life in the whirling world of 1938, life is too much and too fast to appreciate.  As such, the hypothesis of Wilder’s thought experiment in Our Town seems to fail.  Slowing down and simplifying life does not make it more comprehensible or meaningful.  So, is that it?  Is Wilder saying that we are doomed to incomprehensible and meaningless lives, and damned essentially to nothingness thereafter? 

But not so fast.  Both an “all is hopeless” interpretation of the play and the conventional “just try harder” interpretation leave out the person who I think is the most important character in the play and who, in my reading, is Wilder’s spokesperson.  And that is the Stage Manager.   

Atheism and Agnosticism: The Stage Manager.

The Stage Manager is literally the central character in the play.  Everything comes from him and revolves around him.  He opens the play and introduces us to the town.  He manages the play, not as script writer or director, but as facilitator.  He arranges the props for each scene, rearranging the tables, chairs and trestles to enable us to imagine various places in the town.  The actors then mime most of things they are supposedly encountering.  He also serves as a stand-in playing the roles of various persons in town who are adjuncts to the action, such as the drug store soda jerk and the minister who marries Emily and George, and he does this even as we still see him as the Stage Manager. 

For purposes of Wilder’s thought experiment, the Stage Manager seemingly represents the atheistic and agnostic beliefs about God and Heaven that had been on the rise in the early 1900’s and were in ascendance in 1938.  The philosopher Nietzsche had scandalized the western world in the late nineteenth century when he had proclaimed that God was dead.  What he meant by that was not actual deicide, but that most people acted as though He was not around.  It was, for example, no longer believed by most people, as it had been in the past, that God intervened in the daily operations of the universe, but instead that He had made the universe and then left it to run itself.  Likewise, most people did not make doing God’s will their daily concern, but rather made worldly success their daily concern, leaving Sundays to think about God and God’s will.

Ignoring God in this way, getting on with business without God as a focus, is literally what is meant by atheism and is what we see in Our Town.  Atheism does not mean antitheism or opposition to God as the word is commonly used today.  When you put an “a” in front of a word, you indicate an indifference to what the word stands for not an outright rejection of it.  Asocial means indifference to society, not antisocial opposition to society.  Apolitical means indifference to politics, not opposition to politics.  Amoral means indifference to morality, unlike immoral which means acting in opposition to morality.  It is a demonstration of the power of the religious powers-that-be that the word atheism, which literally means indifference to God, has come popularly to mean antitheism and opposition to God. 

The Stage Manager is the guardian angel of the play and seemingly a symbolic agent of God.  But he represents an atheistic vision of God and the idea that we cannot expect God’s personal intervention in our troubles, that is, that we have to get along in the world without a deus ex machina.  Reflecting an atheistic version of God, the Stage Manager puts things together in the play, arranges them, and keeps things moving, but without intervening in the outcomes.  His role is consistent with the instinctive feeling of people that the universe will continue to exist from moment to moment, rather than suddenly become a void of nothing.    

Consistent with his role as God’s agent, the Stage Manager seems to be omniscient and to know everything that has happened and will happen.  He acts as a tour guide for our visit to the town, talking to us, organizing what we see and hear, and commenting on the action.  He acts, in turn, as a spiritual advisor to the ghosts of the dead townspeople, particularly Emily.  But he does not control what people do or what happens, as when he advises Emily’s ghost not to revisit her past life but she does so anyway.  In sum, the Stage Manager seemingly represents the eviscerated atheistic form of God that was popularly envisioned in 1938.

The ghosts with whom the Stage Manager hobnobs at the end of the play seem to represent an agnostic view of an afterlife that was common in 1938.  This view is consistent with the fact that most people cannot conceive of a world without themselves in it.  They can intellectually believe that they will die, but cannot feel it.  At the same time, they cannot intellectually accept the traditional idea of an afterlife in Heaven.  So, they hang about in limbo, like the ghosts in the play, intellectually rejecting the traditional idea of an afterlife but emotionally feeling that there must be something after death, albeit they know not what.

So, is that it?  Is Wilder saying that we are all doomed like the ghosts in the play to meaningless lives followed by some sort of afterlife that is akin to nothingness?  If so, what can be the worth of life and death?  Does Wilder want to leave us in despair?  I think not.  Just as I do not think that the conventional interpretation of “try harder” is the blithe answer to the questions posed by the play, I do not think that despair is the answer.  I think, instead, that we are supposed to look to the worldly wisdom of the other-worldly Stage Manager for a possible answer.

The Moral of the Story: Saints and Poets.

When Emily’s ghost returns to her grave after having spent a very dismaying time re-experiencing her twelfth birthday, she tearfully asks the Stage Manager “Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it? – every, every minute?”  The Stage Manager at first replies “No,” but then adds “The saints and poets, maybe – they do some.”[6]  That, I think, is Wilder’s final judgment on the thought experiment he has tried to portray in this play. His experiment in trying to find meaning in everyday life has seemingly failed, but not entirely because it has pointed the way to a new experiment that we the audience can undertake.  We can try to be poets and saints.

Poets are artists who can grasp loads of experiences, emotions, and ideas in a single metaphor.  Or a novel.  Or a painting.  For artists, everything in life is material for their work, nothing is lost, all is saved and used.  Their lives are full of creation and their deaths leave behind a legacy of artistic works that live after them.  As Wilder has done with this play. 

Saints are activists who give their all for the sacred purpose of doing good in the world.  Social activists.  Environmental activists.  For them, everything in life is material for their work of enhancing the lives of others.  Their lives are full of good deeds and their deaths leave behind a legacy of good works that live after them.  As Wilder tried to do during his life.  

Live a purposeful life, aiming to be a poet or a saint or a bit of both, is, I think, the moral of Wilder’s story and the answer to his questions about the meaning of life and death.  It is not an easy answer.  Wilder seems to be saying that in our lives we are pushed and pulled between comfortable surfaces and uncomfortable depths, between the comfort of a meaningless life and the discomfort of struggling for meaning in life and a legacy in death. 

I think we are enthralled and haunted by the play because we get caught up in a dialectic of interpretations of its meaning that we apply to our own lives.  We go back and forth between comfortable thoughts, uncomfortable thoughts, and difficult thoughts.  The comfortable that we can be happy if we just try harder to enjoy every moment of our lives is invariably disrupted by the uncomfortable thought that a life full of unconnected moments is ephemeral and without meaning, which is followed in turn by the difficult thought that we must have a purpose in life to connect the moments and make them meaningful.  Round and around we go from thesis to antithesis to synthesis and back to thesis….

And, so, we return time and again to Our Town looking for a resolution to the conundrum.                                       

BW 4/21


[1] Thornton Wilder.  Our Town: A Play in Three Acts.  New York: Harper &Row Publishers, 1957.

[2] Our Town.  Wikipedia.  Accessed 3/25/21.

[3] Wilder.  Ibid. P.91.

[4] The Official Website of the Thornton Wilder Family. thorntonwilder.com

[5] Wilder.  Ibid.  P.100.

[6] Wilder.  Ibid. P. 100.

Bridging the Cultural Divide in the United States. Revisiting Jerome Bruner’s “The Process of Education.” Making the Strange Familiar and the Familiar Strange.

Bridging the Cultural Divide in the United States.

Revisiting Jerome Bruner’s The Process of Education.

Making the Strange Familiar and the Familiar Strange.

Burton Weltman

Prologue: Down the Rabbit Hole.

First gain someone’s trust.  Then start with some small conventional truths.  Move on to a bunch of unconventional half-truths.  Finish with a host of enormously wild lies.  This is a method commonly used by demagogues, cultists, and conspiracy theorists to gain adherents.  Vulnerable people are lured onto a slippery slope that can land them, if their descent is not somehow stopped, in an alternate universe at the bottom of a rabbit hole. 

If enough people are seduced in this way, you can end up with one segment of the population living in the real world in which reasoned arguments and verifiable evidence hold sway, and another segment wandering around in a surreal world in which irrational fears and unverifiable rumors run rampant.  The result is a cultural divide and social conflict, seemingly without any obvious resolution.  Sound familiar?

Introduction: Jerome Bruner’s Quest.

As I am writing this essay in mid-March, 2021, the world is in the midst of a terrible COVID virus pandemic that is primarily spread through person-to-person contact, specifically through respiratory droplets that people exhale when breathing and talking. Over 2.5 million people have so far died world-wide, including over 500,000 in the United States.  Vaccines have been developed that will hopefully eliminate the disease in the long run.  Meanwhile, the best way to prevent it has been for people to wear face masks that keep respiratory droplets from spreading and to stay at least six feet from people who are not members of their household.  These are pretty simple and relatively easy things to do.

Nonetheless, a large portion of the American people don’t do these things either out of negligence and bravado or, even more troubling, because they deny the medical science behind these measures.  And many people are refusing to take the vaccines even though they have been scientifically demonstrated to be effective.  As a result, although the United States has only about 4% of the world’s population, we have had some 25% of the COVID cases and 20% of the fatalities from the disease.  Hundreds of thousands of people have unnecessarily died because of the behavior of these science-deniers. 

The negligence and bravado of young people is understandable even if regrettable, but how can it be that a substantial portion of the adult population doesn’t and won’t believe in science?  What is it with these people?  Are they crazy?  Maybe, but maybe they just don’t understand science and scientists.  And maybe they have misplaced their trust in demagogues and charlatans who are leading them down a psychological and ideological rabbit hole.  This is, unfortunately, not a new or isolated phenomenon.

The COVID Pandemic.  Electronic Voting Machines.  Global Climate Change.  These are just a few of the recent issues that have pitted those who accept science, verifiable evidence and rational arguments against those who don’t and who accept, instead, fantastic ideas and conspiracy theories promoted by demagogues.  How can we explain the opposition of so many people to science and rational thinking?  How can we bridge the gap between those who trust and those who distrust science, scientists and scientific methods?

The purpose of this essay is to revisit Jerome Bruner’s The Process of Education (hereafter Process) and to recommend his ideas on bridging the cultural divide in the United States, and especially the gap between those who trust in science and those who don’t.[1] 

Process was first published in 1960 and almost immediately became an educational classic.  It was met with a torrent of superlatives.  Hailed at the time as “an epochal book,”[2] it was called “one of the most significant books on education written in this century.”[3]  Proclaimed “the most influential bit of educational writing of its time,”[4] it has been cited as “the book most re-read by most teachers”[5]  In retrospect, it has been regarded as the “most influential educational proposal in the history of American education,” and it is still widely used and praised by educators today [6]      

Process is a wonderful guide to better schooling.  If more schools would adopt Bruner’s methods, we would be in a better educational place.  But it is also a precis on how to overcome the distrust of science, scientists, learning, and the learned that has historically been widespread in America, and that has provided to the present day an opportunity for demagogues and charlatans to prey upon the public and the Republic.  We can learn much from the book about dealing with our present situation.

Bruner was one of the most prominent American psychologists of the twentieth century. He was the founder of the cognitive movement in psychology.  Cognitive psychologists focus on how people think and reason, and how they fall into unthinking and unreason.  Bruner’s career spanned some eighty years, and he died in 2016 after living and working to the age of one hundred. 

Bruner pursued his cognitive theories in a wide variety of fields, from studying Nazi propaganda techniques to working on methods of public polling, fostering early-childhood educational programs (he was a co-founder of Head Start), developing social studies curricula, studying the anthropology of law, and many other fields. The range of his contributions to psychology was enormous.  And his movement from one thing to the next was not random, but rather like a spiral in which the next thing was based on the last.[7] 

Throughout his long and varied career, Bruner’s underlying and overriding concern – the issue to which he repeatedly recurred – was the causes of cultural divisions between people and how to bridge those divisions.  He was especially concerned about the gap between those who trust in the methods of science and those who don’t, and between those who can understand and appreciate the rationality of scientific methods and those who can’t. 

Science-denial devolves from both the nature and the history of science.  Science is by its nature difficult to fathom.  That is the point of science: to try to fathom strange and difficult things.  And if it is difficult for scientists, it is more so for laypersons.  Scientific language and scientific methods can seem daunting to the non-scientist.  To the layperson, science can appear strangely unintelligible and scientists can seem scary.  It seems like magic and magicians, full of dark secrets and mysteries – something that seems untrustworthy because it is unintelligible.    

Science can seem more alien and confounding than the unreasoning of demagogues.  Demagogues are good at telling melodramatic stories, promoting seductively simplistic solutions to complex problems, and touching on things to which their listeners can relate, even when they are pushing nonsense and lies.  Scientists have to play by different rules.  They have to follow the facts.  Their reports have to be balanced and are rarely dramatic.  And their solutions to problems tend to be complex and conditional.

The inherent difficulties in appreciating science have been compounded by the rapid pace of scientific and technological change over the last two centuries.  Prior to the Industrial Revolution, which began in England in the late eighteenth century, scientific innovations and technological inventions were for the most part few and far between.  And they usually had little effect on the politics of the day or on the day-to-day lives of the general public.  Children were ordinarily expected to follow in their parents’ footsteps, and were able to do so.  Social, economic, scientific and technological changes were generally so slow that most people were not affected by them and many did not even notice the changes.  European peasants in the eighteenth century, for example, farmed their land in essentially the same way as peasants in the twelfth century.  

This state of things dramatically changed in the nineteenth century.  Inventions and scientific innovations abounded.  The word “scientist,” meaning a person whose focus is on scientific innovation, was first coined during the 1830’s.  The modern sense of the word “inventor,” a person whose focus is on technological invention, was also coined at that time.  The rapid rate of change since then has been socially and psychologically disruptive.

As a result, young people can no longer be expected, or even allowed, to act and think like their elders.  In fact, most people have to adjust their ways of thinking multiple times during the course of their lives, as scientific and technological developments continually rearrange the world.  It is no wonder, then, that there is a large degree of incomprehension and resistance among many people to what they perceive as the disrespect and destruction of what they consider traditional values and established ways of life. This is especially the case with older people who may feel they are being left behind.

Bruner’s work can be seen as a quest to bridge the gap between scientists and the general public, and to make common sense out of the scientific method.  His solution to bridging the gap was itself commonsensical, and it is exemplified by Process.  The book, while chock full of erudition, is a model of concision and is only ninety readable pages long.

Bruner’s solution to the culture gap was essentially to reverse the direction of the process by which people are commonly indoctrinated into anti-scientific and cultish beliefs.  The idea is to first establish trust with people and then incrementally encourage them to adopt scientific ways of thinking about things and adapt to scientific methods of solving problems. 

Trust is the crucial first step.  As heralds of reason have repeatedly complained since the dawn of rationality, merely refuting the unreason of demagogues is not enough.  If you don’t first have people’s trust, they are unlikely to believe your most impeccable reasoning.  Whereas if a demagogue has people’s trust, he can blather nonsense and they will be with him. Establishing trust is the first and foremost requirement for helping people to learn anything, including learning how to learn – that is, how to take a rational approach to problems – which Bruner insists is the most important thing of all.[8]

Having established trust, you can then help people to expand their understanding of things and get a better footing in the real world through a process of making the familiar strange and making the strange familiar.  This is essentially how we learn almost anything, by questioning some of our own beliefs – making them look strange – and then understanding and accepting new ideas – making the strange seem familiar. 

Starting with small conventional ideas that all can understand, you can move up to larger unconventional ideas that are more difficult to understand, such as the methods and findings of science.  It is what Bruner calls scaffolding.[9]  With patience, you can incrementally build a consensus on approaching problems, on learning how to learn, that bridges the cultural gap.  How this process can work is the gist of Process.

Full Disclosure: Bruner was a pro-science liberal and so am I.  Like him, my idea of overcoming the cultural divide is for the other side to come over to my side.  I think that anti-science people are wrong and wrongheaded, but not necessarily bad.  The virulent and violent among them, the racists and fascists, are bad.  But that is not the whole of it or of them, and people on my side share responsibility for the cultural division.  My purpose, as such, is to try to promote a process that might help bridge the cultural gap between us.

Historical Context: Cultural Conflicts in America.

Cultural divides have existed in most societies since the beginnings of civilization.  These divides have taken different forms: political, economic, religious, racial, educational, ideological, and so forth.  Sometimes differences have been amicably accommodated, other times they have been socially disruptive.  Cultural divides can lead to constructive and cooperative diversity – e pluribus unum – or to destructive and hostile conflicts – the KKK. 

The question of whether a cultural divide between the educated classes and the uneducated masses is a good or bad thing has been debated since at least the time of the Ancient Greeks.  Is it better to have what might be called a high culture and a cultural elite that rules over the lower-class masses and their mass culture?  Or is it better to have a common culture and common education that connects diverse classes and subcultures of a society?

Some, like Plato, promoted a cultural hierarchy in which the learned would rule over the unlearned.  Others, like Democritus, promoted a common culture in which all could participate, even if some were more learned in some things than others.  The former option is elitist and undemocratic.  The latter is liberal and democratic.  Bruner opted in favor of the liberal and democratic position, and most of his life’s work was motivated by the problem of how to implement this position.

In recent years in the United States, in addition to other cultural differences and conflicts in our society, there has developed a significant conflict between those who are pro-science and those who are anti-science.  By science I mean not only the recognized scientific disciplines, such as physics, chemistry and, especially, biology, which because of the theory of evolution has become a heavily distrusted science among some Biblical fundamentalists, but I also mean what is often more broadly called the scientific method. 

The scientific method has been described as a way of approaching problems that requires procedures which ensure the problems have been given a thorough and objective consideration.  Objective means that the pros and cons have been considered and that all of the best available evidence and reasonable arguments have been evaluated in reaching a conclusion.  The scientific method can take many different specific forms but in general for a method to be considered scientific, it must consist of empirical evidence that is open for all to see and evaluate, reasoned arguments that are open for all to understand and debate, and results that can be replicated for public inspection.  It eschews revealed evidence that can’t be empirically verified, conclusions from revered authority that can’t be established by reasoned arguments, and secret methods known only to a sacred few.

Science-denial in the United States, as exemplified by Americans’ approaches to the COVID pandemic, reflects a cultural divide that overlaps with a political divide and that, in turn, largely reflects a geographical divide.  In addition to a division between those who trust and distrust science, it is Liberals versus Right Wingers and Blue States versus Red States.  Members of both sides of the divide seem to live in cultural and informational bubbles in which they encounter only messages that reinforce their respective positions, with little empathy or understanding of the others’ positions. 

It is a cultural crisis that threatens the foundations of our democracy, as we have seen with the presidency of Donald Trump, a would-be dictator who repeatedly disparaged science and reason in favor of prejudice, fear and hatred, and whose supporters recently attacked the United States Congress in an effort to overthrow a democratically conducted election that was definitively shown to be fair by empirical evidence and reasoned arguments.

Historical Context: The Cold War and The Process of Education.

The current cultural crisis is by no means the first in American history.  Process came out of a political and cultural crisis that occurred in the United States during the Cold War in the late 1950’s and early 1960’s.  The political problem was that the Russians had beaten the Americans into space in 1957 with their Sputnik satellite, and the United States seemed to be losing the so-called space race to the Communists. 

The blame for this supposed disaster was widely placed on the laxness and lameness of American culture, and specifically on the supposed softness and weakness of our educational system.  America was ostensibly not producing enough first-rate scientists to keep up with the Russians.  How to remedy this was the heated question of the day.

Many conservatives were in favor of establishing a separate network of public schools that would cater to the best and brightest students who would be culled at an early age from the mass of ordinary students.  Admiral Hyman Rickover, for example, argued in his popular book Education and Freedom that “only the massive upgrading of the scholastic standards of our schools will guarantee the future prosperity and freedom of the Republic.”[10]  Much like the oligarchy of Guardians that Plato proposed for his ideal Republic, elite students would be segregated from the masses and specially trained for science and leadership.  The conservative proposal would have essentially institutionalized the cultural gap in America. 

Jerome Bruner opposed the conservative proposal as both undemocratic and ineffectual since it would leave the great majority of people on the outside of scientific and intellectual developments.  These people might, as a consequence, fear and oppose new developments that they didn’t understand, and might fear and oppose the elite intellectual class that was producing the new ideas.  The conservative proposal would make worse an already dangerous cultural divide and turn it into a culture war. 

Bruner wanted, instead, to promote a way in which all students could be educated in the sciences and other intellectual disciplines – “to narrow the gap between ‘advanced’ knowledge and ‘elementary’ knowledge” – and which would produce both cutting-edge scientists and an educated public that would understand and support the sciences.[11] 

Toward this end, Bruner convened a gathering of thirty-five leading American educators, psychologists and scientists at Woods Hole, Massachusetts to come up with an alternative to the conservative proposal.  Process is that proposal, a proposal that is based on establishing trust in scientists and other scholars, and then having them explain their fields in ways that will improve schools and bridge the cultural gap that divides the country. 

In making his proposal. Bruner, who was a master politician, took advantage of the supposed missile gap between the U.S.A. and the U.S.S.R. to address what he thought was an even more important cultural gap in America. He skillfully managed to massage Cold War political concerns in Process while promoting means and methods that go beyond it.  And although the missile gap turned out to be a myth that had been contrived for political purposes – ironically, the very sort of unscientific fear-mongering that Bruner wanted to eliminate – the proposals in Process continue to be real and relevant today.     

The Threshold Question: Whom do you trust?

Perhaps the most important question that we face in our lives is “Whom do I trust?”  Despite the admonitions of self-styled freethinkers for everyone to think for themselves, and claims by erstwhile individualists that they make up their own minds about everything, the fact of the matter is that all of us get the overwhelming majority of our inclinations, information and ideas from others.  From “significant others” and “opinion leaders.”

Only the smallest amount of our knowledge is personally gained by ourselves alone.  As such, the first question we face when confronted with most problems is whom we are going to trust to help us to our conclusions.  The information and ideas we gain from our trusted sources provide the material from which we construct our ideas and make our decisions. 

Most people put their trust in significant others who think rationally and who trust in science, and so they themselves end up thinking rationally and trusting science.  But some people don’t.  And therein lies a main source of conflict about most social and political issues, including the current COVID crisis. 

In dealing with COVID, pro-science people trust doctors, scientists and government agencies that deal with infectious diseases.  This is a rational response.  Anti-science people have tended to trust right-wing demagogues who either deny the seriousness of the crisis or reject the scientific remedies for it.  The science-deniers are putting their trust in people who could get them and others killed, and have done so.  This split between those who trust experts and those who put their faith in demagogues has occurred in many crises.      

The question then becomes how is a person to know who is trustworthy and whom to trust?  On what basis should we decide that someone is trustworthy?   And how can we reach out to people who have put their faith in untrustworthy sources?  Process can help answer those questions. 

Although Process deals for the most part with curricular issues and teaching methods, underlying the discussion of these issues is the overriding question of the role and status of teachers.  For without trust in their teachers, why and how should students learn from them?  The book is effectively an extended argument for elevating the trust-level of teachers by making them practitioners of scientific methods and spokespersons for science.  And the strategies that Bruner promotes for evaluating and elevating the trust-level in teachers can be applied to other opinion leaders and be use as a precis on whom to trust.

Three keys to gaining trust from others and to deciding whom to trust can be gleaned from Process

First, trust should not be founded on personality.  You should not expect people to trust you based merely on your personality, and you should not trust someone else based on that person’s personality or personal attributes.  Charisma is not a trustworthy basis for trusting anyone.  Trustworthy should be defined as being based on the best available evidence and best reasoned arguments, all of it open to public scrutiny and deemed legitimate, that is, the scientific method.

Trust should not be seen as a personal or individual thing but as a collective phenomenon.  Trust should depend on a person’s associates and associations, on whom that person trusts and who trusts that person.  Trust should be based on a person’s participation in a web of trustworthy people and organizations, each of them supporting and being supported by the others, with trustworthiness defined as the reliance on    Trust should be seen as a collaborative phenomenon. Your trust in someone should be supported by others’ trust in them. 

In turn, you should expect and encourage people’s trust in you to be warranted by others’ trust in you.  People should trust in you based on the web of trust in which you are enmeshed.  A web of others who are themselves trustworthy because they are themselves trusted.  To the extent that you share a web of trust with other people, you should be able to connect with them and they with you.  And trust would be warranted.

A web of trust functions as a filter to eliminate untrustworthy individuals and unreasonable opinions.  Individuals and ideas are vetted by the various participants in a web, some being accepted, others rejected, in the search for a reasonable consensus. 

That does not mean that there cannot be disagreements among reasonable people.  For any important question, there is almost certainly going to be more than one reasonable answer.  That is what makes the question important.  If every reasonable person agreed on an answer, the question would not be an important one to ask.  There will generally be a range of legitimate opinions that are based on the best available evidence and arguments, and people will have to choose among them. 

But there are also lots of answers that are just plain wrong.  If an opinion turns out to be unsupported by the best available evidence and argument, it can be well-meaning but still wrong.  Other opinions can be both wrong and wrongheaded.  Opinions that are based on emotional manipulation, disingenuous arguments, and cherry-picked evidence – the demagogues’ stock-in-trade of prejudice, fear, slander, hate and lies.  A web of trustworthy sources can help filter out answers that are wrong and that are wrongheaded.       

What are called intermediate organizations are particularly important in this vetting process.  Intermediate organizations are interest groups that operate between top-level leaders and government, on the one hand, and the general public, on the other.  These organizations may perform all sorts of social services, from Little League baseball teams to environmental advocacy groups to political parties, but they also form a safety-net of reasonable public opinion that can catch people before they slide down a slippery slope of demagoguery and irrationality. That is why demagogues and dictators generally seek to eliminate intermediate organizations that stand between them and their target audiences, organizations that can comment on what they say and do, and that might check their efforts to ensnare the public.

For teachers, a web of trust might include other teachers with whom they have worked, scholars they had heard or read, professors with whom they had studied, professional organizations to which they belong, and other sources of ideas and information that students might recognize and that they could consult and verify as legitimate. Citing sources in this way is not an excuse for name-dropping or self-promotion.  The purpose is to indicate to students that their teacher is part of a network of learning to which they, too, now belong. 

Bruner describes a chain of influence in education and society at large. Teachers function as role models for their students and Bruner insists that they be exemplars of reason “with whom students can identify and compare themselves.”  Just as, in turn, the teachers’ professors had been role models of reason for them, and just as cutting-edge scientists and scholars had been role models of learning for the professors.  It is a chain of influence.[12] 

And this chain of influence goes both ways.  The well-informed and well-spoken layperson should serve as a model of plain speaking and common sense understanding for scholars, professors and teachers. Experts and laypeople connect with each other and support each other, back and forth along the intellectual chain. When teachers bring cutting edge ideas into their classes, students participate with them in the educational web of scientists and scholars.[13]

All of us who are not under the spell of a demagogue, or a cultist or totalitarian regime participate in knowledge networks.  And most people seem intuitively to know that a web of trust is more reliable than faith in a single person.  When asked why they trust someone, most people will respond by citing well-regarded people and institutions as references.  For most people, a network of trust might include professional colleagues, religious leaders, community activists, educators, political leaders, friends, neighbors and all sorts of organizations that they share with people in whom they trust and who trust in them.   

Second, you should expect people to trust in you, and you should encourage them to do so, based on the fact that you share important values with them.  And, in turn, your decision to trust others should be based on shared values.  These should be positive values and not merely negatives or things you oppose.  The values should reflect areas of general agreement from which you and others can incrementally move toward agreement on specific issues. 

Such values might include The Golden Rule if you participate in the Judeo/Christian/Muslim tradition.  Or the principle of majority rule with minority rights if you value the democratic tradition.  Or patriotism, your love of country and your desire to do what is best for the country.  Most Americans share each of these values and so they are usually a good place to start in developing relations of trust and agreement with people on specific issues. 

For teachers and their students, shared values might also include the maxim that “Knowledge is power.”  If there is one thing that most young people want more than anything else, it is control over their lives and power in the world in which they live.  If teachers can convince their students that what they are being taught will give them power, the students will follow them even into the labyrinths of science.  Bruner emphasizes that teachers should learn new things along with their students.  He insists that “if the teacher is also learning, teaching takes on a whole new quality,” and teachers and students will thereby share in an empowering experience.[14]

Third, you should expect most people’s trust in you to be conditional.  In fact, you should insist on it.  And you should make your trust in others conditional.  Trust should be subject to modification if conditions warrant, particularly if the first two keys (webs of trust and shared values) fail to hold up.  Trust is a two-way street.  Bruner emphasizes that a key to learning is “to conduct the enterprise jointly, to honor the social relationship that exists between learner and tutor,” and to insist that each party to the relationship holds up their end.[15]  

This is a key difference between trusting a trustworthy person and putting your faith in a demagogue, cultist or conspiracy theorist.  The propositions of the latter are invariably based on claims that are unverifiable by evidence and unsupported by reasoned argument.  They are generally powered by fear and hatred, with shaky quarter-truths becoming weaker half-truths and ending up wild full-blown falsehoods.  Putting your faith in these people is a slippery slope proposition.  Once you accept their irrational premises, you can be in for a free-fall snared in a net of irrational conclusions. 

The rationalizing of demagogues and conspiracy theorists is generally circular, with no way out once you’re in their feedback loops.  When their plans and predictions don’t work out as they claimed, they merely invent some non-rational and non-empirical reason for the failure, and insist that their plans and predictions will work out in the future.  If, for example, they predicted the end of the world for a particular day and it doesn’t happen, they will invent some unverifiable reason for the postponement of the End.  Trusting such people is a losing proposition. 

Trustworthy people will insist on verifying their propositions with the best empirical evidence and the best reasoned arguments.  If scientists’ propositions don’t pan out, they are supposed to acknowledge their failures and use them as the starting point for new researches.  Bruner insists that teachers should apply this standard to themselves.  They should tell their students that if what the teachers are saying does not meet standards of verifiability, then the students should not believe what the teachers are saying.  And what goes for scientists and teachers should go for everyone else.  People should trust in reason and expect to be trusted only if they are reasonable.

These three keys don’t absolutely rule out someone foolishly putting their faith in Donald Trump, Tucker Carlson or Sean Hannity, but they should help.

The Curriculum: Making the Strange Familiar and the Familiar Strange. 

Bruner describes in Process a school curriculum designed to bring students into the world of science and scientific methods.  It is a program that could be used by anyone trying to bridge a cultural gap with other people.  His curriculum is based on four steps: (1) Finding and focusing on the structure of whatever subject you are dealing with.  (2) Formulating the subject so that you reach whomever you are teaching, varying it depending on their age and academic level.  (3) Approaching the subject through developing intuition or good guessing in your students. (4) Encouraging interest in the subject, and helping your students to understand and accept novel ideas, through a process of making the familiar strange and the strange familiar.[16]

(1) Structure is the core idea of a subject that ties together its various aspects in a way that makes sense to both experts and novices.  It is a summary statement of the subject that indicates complexities that are likely to be understandable only by experts, but also points out main themes of the subject that are understandable by laypersons as well as experts.  Structure, Bruner says, is “how things are related.”  It is the core of a web of rationality.[17]

Focusing on the structure of a subject makes it more meaningful, manageable, memorable, and, most important, mutual.  Structure makes a subject meaningful by connecting things together so that the subject is not a random bunch of facts or ideas but facts and ideas that have some purpose expressed through its structure. 

Structure makes a subject manageable in that it organizes related facts and ideas into a network of meaning, connecting them in a way that enables you to move them around and use them.  Structure makes a subject memorable in that it provides a hook onto which facts and ideas can be hung, connecting them in a way that make them easier to remember. 

Structure makes a subject mutual in that it can be used by experts along with laypersons, and connects experts with laypersons so that they share in common knowledge.  Mutuality is a key to overcoming the cultural gap and the anti-science inclinations of some people. Examples of structures might include focusing on the idea of evolution when discussing history, functionalism when discussing biology, democracy when discussing politics, the Golden Rule when discussing ethics.[18]              

(2)  If you start with the structure of a subject, Bruner insists that you can then teach almost anything to anyone so long as you formulate your discussion in terms that can be understood by that person.  The less academically advanced your students, the smaller and slower the steps you would have to take in teaching a complex subject.  But you could teach nuclear physics or ethics to a five-year-old if you had the skill, time and patience.[19] 

It may not be worth the effort to teach the fine points of nuclear physics or ethics to a five-year-old, but if you were, for example, to posit as a core idea of nuclear physics that atomic and subatomic particles come together and come apart, you could teach five-year-old children about the way in which bigger things are made up of smaller things that come together and come apart.  It could be a prelude to later lessons on more complex physics. You could do likewise with the Golden Rule in teaching about ethics.   

The idea that anyone can understand anything if it is couched in terms that they can comprehend is a key to overcoming the cultural gap in America and to countering the anti-science and anti-intellectual inclinations of people.  The point is to find ways to talk with them as opposed to talking at them or down to them.

(3) If you start with the structure of a subject, Bruner insists that you can teach that subject through discovery and intuition, as opposed to didactic teaching through telling and testing.  Helping people to discover things for themselves is a much more effective way of teaching than telling them things.  When you tell people things, the things remain yours.  Even if they accept the things you have told them, the things are still yours and not theirs.  And those things are easily forgotten or overridden by something different they are told by someone else.  But when people discover things for themselves, the things become theirs.  And they are more likely to accept and remember them. 

Didactic teaching is like trying to win an argument.  You are unlikely to make progress in overcoming a cultural gap by winning an argument, that is, by overwhelming the other guy with the acuity of your reasoning.  Trying to win an argument rarely convinces anyone that you are right.  It usually puts people on the defensive and adds resentment of you to their certainty that they are right even if, in fact, you are right. 

You need to win people over by helping them to win the argument through adopting your ideas.  People will change their minds if they think they have done the changing.  Most people need to feel that they are right.  The key in this respect is to help people to think that they have themselves discovered the conclusions that you want them to reach.  This is not a matter of trickery or disingenuousness.  It is a matter of making the familiar strange and the strange familiar, and then trusting in reason and in the reasonableness of people to accept the truth when they see it for themselves.

(4)  The admonition to “Make the strange familiar and the familiar strange” was reputedly first used by the poet William Taylor Coleridge in the early nineteenth century as the measure of a good poem.  He thought that a good poem should make the familiar strange and the strange familiar for the reader.  The maxim was picked up in the later nineteenth century by the philosopher William James as a key to philosophical thinking and the benchmark of a good philosophy.  In the early twentieth century, the anthropologist Theodor Kroeber cited it as a key to scientific thinking and the goal of good anthropology.  In the mid-twentieth century, it was adopted by Bruner as a key to learning and as the goal of a good school curriculum.  To Bruner, it was also a key to good cultural politics.

Making the strange familiar and the familiar strange is a method of questioning conventional wisdom, shaking up routine thinking, and taking people out of their habitual responses.  It is a way of encouraging people to see that what they take for granted as inevitable and permanent is actually conditional and a matter of choice.  In turn, it encourages them to see what they think of as alien and off-putting as actually being related to what they think of as good.  It is a way of seeing what different peoples have in common and how their differences can be a means of making connections as well as distinctions. 

Bruner couples this idea with his concept of a spiral curriculum.  Demagogues encourage circular thinking in which a feedback loop of lies comes to seem like truth from sheer repetition.  Spiral thinking is a process of repeatedly returning to the same idea but at a higher level of reasoning and evidence.  Having encountered a problem and come to a resolution of it – that is, having made the strange familiar – you then question your resolution – thereby making the familiar strange once more.  It is a dialectic in which you continuously raise your level of understanding.[20] 

Making the strange familiar and the familiar strange succeeds more often if it is undertaken as an incremental process, and not as a revelation or revolution.  Increments should be large enough to challenge people to see things differently but not so large as to be indigestible.  That is, try in small steps to help people question their own beliefs, starting around the edges and working their way to the center.  And try in small steps to help them to understand the merits of other people’s beliefs, to see that those who are different are not necessarily bad.  This is not easy or likely to succeed with people who have gone down a rabbit hole as deep as flat-earthers or QAnonists.  That’s the importance of catching people before they go down those rabbit holes.

For example, one might start a discussion about poverty and social welfare programs with the fact that during the Middle Ages in Europe it was Catholic Church doctrine that if a poor beggar was refused alms from a rich man, the beggar had the right to rob the man.  Giving alms to the poor was regarded by the Church as an obligation of the rich.  If the rich man refused to share his wealth with the poor, he forfeited his right to the wealth.  And the beggar had the right to enforce the obligation by robbing him.  

This was a right that was rarely acknowledged by rich people, and beggars who tried to execute that right were likely to be executed themselves.  But the example is a way of looking at theft, poverty, and social obligations in a new way.  Having used this example in my own teaching, I can affirm that at the end of spirited discussions almost all of my students ended up agreeing with the Church doctrine.

That example can be followed up by asking whether the children of poor parents should go hungry and what should be done about the fact that some twenty percent of American children go hungry each year.   Very few of my students had been in that situation.  Their parents had always been able to provide food for them. 

These questions pushed students toward thinking about poverty and parents, asking them to think about what if their own parents had been poor and they themselves had been hungry.  Making the issue personal brought it home to them.  Wouldn’t they have wanted and warranted help from the government?  This is another example of making the familiar strange and making the strange familiar.   I would bring up evidence of the effects of malnutrition on children, and the long-lasting costs to society of people growing up and living in poverty, trying thereby to bring science into the discussion.

Again, after spirited discussions about the responsibilities of parents, the needs of innocent children, and the obligations of society, almost all of my students ended up favoring government welfare programs to aid children.  And most of them also then favored welfare programs for the children’s parents on the grounds that the children needed healthy parents and couldn’t thrive with hungry parents.        

These results are consistent with public opinion polling over the last hundred years which show that when Americans are asked broad questions about whether they favor or oppose social welfare programs, some two-thirds oppose them.  But when they are asked more specific questions about whether the government should help feed hungry people, some two-thirds approve of the programs. 

When Americans are asked broad ideological questions, and when political campaigns are based on broad ideological statements or demagogical claims, most people have a right-wing reaction.  But when Americans are asked concrete and personal questions, and when campaigns are based around specific social problems and concrete social programs, most people will consider the evidence that supports those programs and will tend toward a liberal response. 

This response is consistent with Bruner’s analysis of the cultural divide in America and his proposed solutions to the problem.  You can, he insists, relate anything to anybody if you couch it in terms that they can comprehend.  Demagogues know this and exploit it when they couch their lies in fearmongering terms that touch the fears of their audiences.  Bruner’s quest is for means and methods of reaching people with science and reason, to touch their pragmatic reason and their humanitarian goals.        

The Moral of the Story: Treating Strangers as Family and Family as Strangers.

There is a moral aspect to the method of making the strange familiar and the familiar strange that is useful in bridging the cultural gap.  The Golden Rule is an admonition that, in one form or another, is part of almost every human system of morality.  It requires us to treat our neighbors as we would like to be treated by them, and as they might like to be treated by us.  In turn, it requires us to treat our neighbors as we treat ourselves, and to treat ourselves as we treat our neighbors.  It is a reciprocal obligation to treat ourselves and our neighbors with respect and consideration. 

I suggest that the maxim of making the strange familiar and the familiar strange can be translated into the admonition to “Treat strangers like family and family like strangers.”  In this translation, the maxim functions as a version of the Golden Rule that requires us to love our neighbors as extensions of ourselves.  It is a curricular axiom that functions also as an ethical postulate. 

The maxim requires us to look at ourselves from the outside, from a visiting Martian’s point of view – that is, making yourself strange – and then to look at others from a point of view inside them – making them familiar.  The maxim thereby becomes a way to overcome human divides of all sorts – cultural, political, economic, and social.  It is a way of combining practical strategies for solving social problems with ideal goals, which is ultimately the moral of Bruner’s story about the process of education.

                                                                                                                        B.W. 3/21


[1] Jerome Bruner.  The Process of Education. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. 1977.

[2] G.J. Sullivan. “The Natural Approach to Learning.” The Commonweal, 74. 1961, p.334.

[3].R. Sylvester.  “Bruner: New Light onthe Educational Process. The Instructor,79. 1969, p.89.

4 A. Foshay. “How Fare the Disciplines?” Phi Delta Kappan. 1970, p.349.

[5]  Richard Jones. Fantasy and Feeling in Education. New York: New York University Press. 1968, p.4.

[6] D. Jenness, Making Sense of Social Studies. New York: MacMillan Pub. Co. 1990. p129.

[7] For a review and evaluation of Bruner’s career up to the turn of the twenty-first century, I have written an essay “The Message and the Medium: The Roots/Routes of Jerome Bruner’s Postmodernism” which was published in Theory and Research in Social Education, Vol.27, Number 2, Spring, 1999.       

[8] Bruner.  Ibid. P.6.

[9] Bruner. Ibid. P.25.

[10] Hyman Rickover.  Education and Freedom. New York: E.P. Dutton & Co. 1959

[11] Bruner. Ibid. P.26.

[12] Bruner. Ibid. P.90.

[13] Bruner. Ibid. Pp.3, 6, 90.

[15] Bruner. Ibid. P.XIV.

[16] Bruner. Ibid. Pp.11-14.

[17] Bruner. Ibid. P.6.

[18] Bruner. Ibid. P.28, 31.

[19] Bruner. Ibid. P.47

[20] Bruner. Ibid. P.52.

Social Darwinism in the stories of Robert Louis Stevenson. “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde,” “The Wrong Box,” “Treasure Island,” and “Kidnapped.” Promoting knee-jerk right-wing reactions to social problems.

Social Darwinism in the stories of Robert Louis Stevenson.

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, The Wrong Box, Treasure Island, and Kidnapped.

Promoting knee-jerk right-wing reactions to social problems.

Burton Weltman

The (im)moral of the story?

Story #1.  An adolescent boy, whose father has recently died, joins with some adult men to search for stolen loot.  The boy’s father was a man of property and his colleagues are the pillars of the community. The boy and his colleagues battle a gang of villainous lower-class criminals who are after the same loot.  In the course of the adventure, the boy takes irresponsible risks that endanger himself and his colleagues, but they luckily turn out all right. 

Treachery abounds and trust is in short supply except among his immediate colleagues.  The boy is repeatedly faced with fearful fight or flight situations.  Gut reaction rather than reasoned choice prevails.  The boy and his colleagues defeat the bad guys and get the loot.  Instead of turning it over to the authorities or trying to return it to its rightful owners, they split it up among themselves and become rich men.

Story #2.  An adolescent boy is orphaned and goes to live with his uncle.  The uncle is worried the boy might make claims on his property, so the uncle has the boy kidnapped, ostensibly to be taken to America and left there.  The boy escapes and spends weeks wandering through the Highlands of Scotland with a nobleman who is a traitor and a murderer, and who is on the lam from the law.

It is a bleak and impoverished land in which the boy can trust no one except his colleague, and everyone seems to be on the make against everyone else.  The boy is repeatedly faced with fearful fight or flight situations.  Gut reaction rather than reasoned choice prevails.  In the end, he makes his way back to his uncle and coerces his uncle into giving him some property.

These are the basic plots of Treasure Island and Kidnapped, two children’s stories by Robert Louis Stevenson.  In each story, an orphaned or fatherless boy of genteel stock, who is essentially on his own, joins with members of the upper classes on an adventure in which the goal of the boy is to become wealthy.  In both stories, the boy and his colleagues must battle lower-class rabble and vicious ruffians in a zero-sum, survival-of-the-strongest world in which no one can be trusted except one’s closest colleagues.  In both stories, the boy goes with his gut reactions and acts in irresponsible ways that turn out all right.  In the end, the boy demonstrates unusual pluck and courage, saves his adult colleagues from the bad guys, and gets his wealth. 

Written by Stevenson in the late nineteenth-century, these novels are classic adventure stories, still popular today, and models for a whole genre of similar stories since.  The stories are exciting and appealing, particularly to their intended audience of adolescent boys.  Their young heroes are intended as models for adolescent readers, whose dreams are likely filled with going on dangerous adventures, doing irresponsible things that turn out well, and enjoying success in besting adult villains. 

But what should young readers think about these stories and others like them?  What is the moral of the stories?  What attitudes toward themselves, people and society will young readers take from them?  Stories such as these provide young readers with models of how to think about the world, respond to problems in the world, and make the choices they have to make.  What do these stories teach their readers?  

I am concerned with the world views – attitudes toward people and ideologies about society – that are conveyed in stories.  The attitudes and ideologies embedded in stories can influence the way in which readers understand, react and respond to the world.  Views embedded in stories can challenge readers’ views of the world and induce them to think rationally about things, or can promote prejudices and emotional reactions that frequently run counter to rational thinking. 

I am most concerned about the ideologies embedded in children’s stories, ideologies that young readers might absorb without realizing it and that might promote ingrained prejudices, prejudices that could surface during their adult lives as knee-jerk reactions to social issues.  If an author’s views are not explained, examined and critiqued, young readers are liable to accept and absorb that author’s ideas even though they may not be right or reasonable.  The stories that children read can have lasting effects on their ideas and actions when they become adults.  

The import of this essay is that the ideologies that underlie children’s stories are generally not examined at all and are almost never explained to children, and the failure to do these things contributes to confusion about the world in children’s minds and to political conflict in the country.  The conflicts between liberals and right-wingers, Blue States and Red States, Democrats and Republicans are often presaged in children’s stories.      

What makes Robert Louis Stevenson particularly worthy of discussion in this regard is that he wrote stories for both adults and children, his political views are clearly embedded in his stories, and his political intentions toward children can be seen.  The way in which Stevenson insinuated his adult messages into his children’s stories is particularly instructive.  Stevenson makes for a good example of the general problem of the ideological implications of children’s stories.

Full disclosure: I am a self-styled liberal and I am disturbed by the right-wing political implications of so many children’s stories and their reflection in American culture.  I believe they contribute to the illiberal ideology that is so widespread in our country, and to the political confusion and conflict that result from harboring an illiberal ideology in a liberal society. 

Stevenson was politically on the right and this essay treats his coupling of right-wing ideology with fascinating stories such as Treasure Island and Kidnapped as something that parents and teachers need to recognize and help their young readers to understand.  The moral of this essay is to encourage young people to read stories such as these but then to examine and understand what it is that the authors are trying to convey in the stories. 

Definitions: Liberal, Conservative, Right-Wing.

For purposes of this essay, I define liberals as people who favor increasing public health and welfare services, increasing governmental regulation in the public interest of the economy and the environment, and increasing governmental efforts toward racial, ethnic and gender equality.  Liberals generally trace their origins back to the philosopher John Locke and the eighteenth-century European Enlightenment.  Their social goals can be summed up in a phrase coined by the eighteenth-century Scottish philosopher Frances Hutcheson and incorporated into the American Declaration of Independence as “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.”    

I define conservatives as people who generally favor maintaining the social status quo for fear of the chaos that might result from social change.  The origins of conservatism can be traced back to the eighteenth-century English politician Edmund Burke who contended that people are too short-sighted to appreciate what might happen in the long run when they undertake social change.  His concern for the unintended undesirable consequences of social change has long been a main argument of conservatives against social reform. 

I define right-wingers as people who want to get rid of most governmental services, regulations and social reforms.  While generally favoring a strong police state to keep in check the undesirable portions of our population, invariably defined as the country’s racial and ethnic minorities, they claim to want to restore the country to an idealized imaginary past in which there was ostensibly more of what they call freedom, but which in the United States was really just the predominance of white, Anglo-Saxon Protestants over Blacks and everyone else. 

Unlike conservatives who are concerned about the unintended consequences of the actions of do-gooders, right-wingers are concerned about the intended consequences of do-gooder actions which they claim are inherently tainted with evil.  They claim that the subtext and real purpose of do-gooder government regulations and social programs is tyrannical government control over everyone and the elimination of individual freedom.  

Right-wingers emphasize cultural values such as religion, race, and ethnicity, to which they react emotionally and adamantly.  They deemphasize political institutions and political values such as democracy or the rule of law, which call for reasoned and pragmatic responses.  They invariably see their cultural values as endangered and are willing to do anything to save them. 

Presenting Problem: An Illiberal Ideology in a Liberal Society.

The United States was founded during the eighteenth century as a liberal country with a pro-social political theory and political structure, and largely remains so to the present day.  But Americans gravitated during the nineteenth century toward an ideology that is illiberal and anti-social, and that largely underlays our culture to the present day.  The clash between the country’s liberal founding theory and political structure, on the one hand, and the country’s illiberal underlying ideology and culture, on the other, has since then been a continual source of confusion and conflict.  It has been most evident in the triumph of Trumpism in recent years.

In The Declaration of Independence, the Founders proclaimed a political theory based on people’s rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness which, in the context of the times, meant the ability to develop one’s individuality through participating with others in society.  The Constitution then established a political structure in which people could exercise their rights through mutual respect and cooperation with each other.  The Declaration and the Constitution incorporate a liberal theory and a liberal practice that reflected the eighteenth-century Enlightenment, and that encourage the use of shared reason and common sense to pragmatically and cooperatively resolve social problems.

Conflicting with this founding theory and structure is an illiberal and anti-social ideology that stemmed in large part from reactionary elements of the Romantic movement of the early nineteenth century.  Romanticism emphasized culture, race, ethnicity and religion as more important than political structures, and relied on emotion over reason.  Romantics combined an emphasis on elite culture with a disdain of the working class that arose with the industrial revolution.  This elitism was, in turn, fueled by racism and ethnocentrism that worsened with the massive immigration to the United States of Irish and other non-WASP peoples, the continued enslavement of African Americans, and the ongoing brutal conquest of Native Americans. 

It is an ideology that promotes freedom and individualism as opposed to the liberty and individuality fostered by the Founders.  In the nomenclature of the Founders, freedom means being able to do whatever one wants irrespective of society, whereas liberty means the right to make choices within a social framework.  Individualism means the cult of oneself by and for oneself, whereas individuality means developing oneself in cooperation with others.  The Founders favored a pro-social ideology. 

Unlike the ideology of the Founders, this underlying individualist ideology portrays society as a constraint on the self rather than as a source of opportunities to develop oneself.  And it is a view that sees others, and especially others who are different than the self, as a threat to one’s freedom rather than as comrades in a joint exercise of liberty.  It encourages an attitude of every man for himself – me against the world – and of the superior people against the inferior people – us against them.  And, unlike the theory and practice promoted by the Founders, this ideology focuses on personal feelings and emotional reactions to problems – going with one’s gut – rather than on reason. 

Illiberal nineteenth-century American ideology was promoted by influential segments of the social and economic elite of that time and, with the continued support of the successors of that elite, continues to the present day to predominate in the mass media and the general American culture.  It is absorbed by children from their earliest ages in stories such as those by Stevenson.  Unexamined acceptance of the views in these stories contributes to the illiberal ideological prejudices that lurk below the surface of most Americans’ minds, and that contribute to the erratic nature of American politics. 

Prologue: Be aware and beware of what your children are reading.

The thesis of this essay is that the children’s stories of Robert Louis Stevenson, Treasure Island and Kidnapped in particular, convey right-wing political attitudes that young readers are liable to absorb as they blithely enjoy Stevenson’s adventure stories, stories that feature adolescents with whom they can identify.  Stevenson was a right-winger politically and continues to be a hero to right-wing libertarian ideologists.  He wrote stories for both adults and children and essentially transferred the right-wing sentiments he conveyed in adult novels such as Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and The Wrong Box to his children’s books.[1]

Stevenson was a highly-regarded late nineteenth-century Scottish author.  His novels have remained popular to the present day and many of them, including the four discussed in this essay, have been made into popular movies.  Stevenson was part of the romantic movement in literature and was a disciple of the reactionary Scottish romantic Sir Walter Scott.  Stevenson had an acerbic wit characteristic of George Bernard Shaw, Oscar Wilde and other British authors of that age.  But, unlike them, he was politically on the right.  Also, unlike them, he wrote stories for adolescents as well as adults.  These stories are generally considered innocent tales of derring-do with young heroes.  But there is more to them and that more is the subject of this essay. 

Children’s literature has been a politically contested terrain for most of the last two hundred years.  Liberals such as Charles Dickens, L.M. Montgomery, and Dr. Seuss, and right-wingers such as Stevenson, Laura Ingalls Wilder, and Walt Disney, have all tried to convey social and political messages to children through their books.  Bluntly put, these authors have tried to politically indoctrinate kids.  While story books are not likely by themselves to politically indoctrinate kids, stories can play an important part in the development of their attitudes.

Psychologists have demonstrated that attitudes adopted by people in childhood can stay with them throughout their adult lives without their even being aware of it.  When adults are forced to face a critical issue, these childhood attitudes can come to the fore and become the basis of knee-jerk ideological responses that may defy reason, rational analysis, and reliable evidence.  Childhood prejudices, literally prejudgments that are subconsciously held, can determine people’s responses to issues, almost despite themselves.[2]  The importance of stories like those of Stevenson lies in the way they help form attitudes in children that may emerge in the form of knee-jerk illiberal and irrational responses to social issues when they become adults. 

Trump voters: A Consequence of Illiberal Ideology in a Liberal Society.

I am writing this essay in December, 2020.  We have just finished a national election in the United States which seemed to demonstrate how politically divided Americans are between liberals, conservatives, and right-wingers. 

Although liberals came out ahead in a close Presidential race in the recent election, right-wingers did well in Congressional and local government races.  Conservatives were essentially side-lined.  For liberals like myself, it was a glass half-full/half-empty result, with most of us aghast at how many people voted for Donald Trump and his Republican supporters.  While the Democrat Joe Biden received some eighty-one million votes, Trump got some seventy-four million, almost half of the electorate.  It is hard for us liberals to understand how so many people could have chosen Trump.  But it may be understandable as a result of the underlying knee-jerk right-wing ideology with which most people in this country have been bombarded since childhood.

Trump appeals to the racism and bigotry of his supporters, who cherish what they claim as their sacred rights to discriminate against others whom they see as different than themselves, to use guns against others whom they see as a threat to themselves, and to impose their religious views on others.  Constitutional requirements, laws and legal procedures, the rights of others, even common decency, count for nothing in the defense of their sacred cultural rights.  And Trump has flouted all of these principles with their support. 

An Irony of American Politics: Red States, Blue States, and the Political Stakes.

We have in the United States what are called Red States and Blue States.  Red States are the more right-wing areas of the country, predominantly made up of rural areas and small towns, and areas that have been politically gerrymandered in favor of the rural and small-town parts of a state.  These states are politically controlled by the Republican Party. 

Republicans generally oppose government economic and social programs and regulations, which they claim stifle economic growth.  They also favor low taxes, particularly on big businesses and wealthy people who are considered the engines of economic growth.  They especially oppose Federal government economic programs for the poor and social programs for minority groups, denigrating these programs as handouts for lay-abouts and as discrimination against hardworking Americans.  Demographically, Red State residents are mainly white, evangelical Protestants, and Red State Republicans think of people like themselves as the desired norm.

Blue States are more liberal and are predominantly urban.  These states are politically controlled by the Democratic Party.  Democrats generally support government social and economic programs and regulations that are intended to help the lower and middle classes, protect the environment, and eliminate invidious discrimination against minorities and women.  They favor taxes on big business and the wealthy to pay for these things.  Theirs is more of an all-for-one-one for-all ethic, as opposed to the Red State individualistic ethic.  Demographically, Blue States are generally diverse ethnically, racially, culturally and religiously, and Blue State Democrats think of this diversity as normal and desirable. 

Red States are generally poorer than Blue States.  Their residents are on average also less educated, less healthy, and generally more in need of government help than residents of Blue States.  Red states invariably get back from the Federal government more money in economic support than they pay to the Federal government.  That is, Red States are essentially supported by the largesse of the wealthier Blue States and the willingness of liberal Blue State citizens to support the well-being of their Red State brethren.  This seems appropriate since the root meaning of the word liberal is generous.   But what Blue State liberals generally get back in return is vitriol and hatred from their Red State brethren. 

And here comes the irony.  Right-wing Red State Republicans vehemently oppose the very social and economic programs and taxes that they depend on for survival.  Theirs is not a rational political stance.  It is an ideological and emotional reaction rather than a pragmatic or programmatic response.  And therein lies a big political problem.

America’s Bi-Polar Politics and Why We Should Care about Stories like Stevenson’s.

One of the conclusions that can be drawn from the recent election and from the split between Red States and Blue States is that the American polity seems to be schizophrenic or bi-polar.  Slightly more than half of the voting public leans to the near left. Slightly less than half leans to the far right.  And, according to most of the mass media and many politicians, there seems to be no way for the twain to meet.  Liberals and right-wingers, they say, live in two different worlds with two different realities. 

But I would like to suggest otherwise: what divides many Americans is the way they respond to social problems depending on how those problems are presented to them.  The way problems are framed seems to be key for a large percentage of the populace as to whether they will respond rationally, pragmatically and liberally, or will react irrationally, emotionally and retrogressively.  Strictly speaking, Americans are not rigidly divided between those who favor liberal policies and those who favor as right-wing policies.  About a third of the people seem to be hard-core liberals.  About a third are hard-core right-wingers.  But about a third of Americans seem to be split within themselves between a liberal self and a right-wing self.  Which self comes to the fore depends on how social issues are framed. 

Social scientists over the last one-hundred years have noted a significant difference in the way many Americans respond to social problems depending on whether the problems are presented in emotional and ideological terms or in pragmatic and programmatic terms.  Asked about a social problem in ideological and emotional terms, they are likely to give a right-wing answer.  Asked in pragmatic and programmatic terms, they are likely to give a liberal answer.[3] 

For example, if Americans are asked whether they support government regulation of business or social welfare for people who won’t work, most will say “No.”  This answer reflects right-wing ideological opposition to government regulations and government handouts in general, and support for laissez-faire policies that require people to stand on their own two feet. In right-wing ideology this constitutes a moral stance in favor of self-reliance and individual responsibility.  Right-wing ideology puts the blame for social problems on the misbehavior of individuals, and the blame for economic failure on an individual’s lack of character.

Self-reliant individualism is the cornerstone of right-wing ideology, and it is also widely considered a cornerstone of American ethics.  Individualism is deeply embedded and pervasive in American culture.  It is ingrained in Americans starting at an early age and continuing throughout our lives.  Having been indoctrinated in the ethic of individualistic self-reliance, Americans are likely to give automatic right-wing answers when asked ideological questions such as whether the government should support the poor.  The right-wing knee-jerk reaction is that the poor should display self-reliance rather than get help from the government.       

But if Americans are asked specific questions about social problems that call for practical responses, most will generally respond in a reasoned and liberal way.  For example, when asked whether they support restrictions against companies spewing toxic chemicals into drinking water or programs giving poor people money to keep children from starving, most will say “Yes.”   In sum, if you ask Americans to react to an ideological issue, most will recoil to the right.  If you ask them to respond pragmatically, most will reason themselves to the left.

This social science finding is itself consistent with liberal thinking.  Liberal ideology emphasizes that people’s circumstances people are a major factor in how they will think and act.  Good conditions will promote good behavior.  Bad conditions will promote bad behavior.  Liberals, as a consequence, tend to promote changing conditions in order to help people become their better selves.  In promoting governmental efforts to improve the conditions in which people live, liberal ideology constitutes an alternative moral stance to the right-wing ethic of self-reliance. 

Liberalism is also a stance that encourages practical solutions to social problems.  It promotes the sort of reasoned response we are expected to give to problems we encounter in school, at work, and in our daily lives.  Having adopted a pragmatic way of thinking when dealing with practical problems in daily life, people who otherwise espouse right-wing ideology will often respond in a pragmatic way when asked social questions of a practical nature and will, in turn, give liberal answers to those questions.  That is, many of the same people who have a knee-jerk right-wing ideological reaction to broad questions about government regulations and welfare programs will give a pragmatic liberal response when asked about these same things in programmatic terms.

The net result is that many, and perhaps most, Americans have split political personalities and bi-polar political psyches.  When encouraged to react immediately, emotionally, and ideologically, they tend to react with their brain stems, home of the “fright then fight or flight” reaction, and go in a right-wing direction.  When encouraged to respond carefully, considerately, and calculatingly, they tend to respond with their cerebral cortexes, the home base of humans’ reasoning and rationality, and go in a liberal direction. 

Applying this tendency historically, when an election campaign has been primarily contested on broad ideological grounds or on a fearmongering emotional basis, the right-wing side has usually won.  If the campaign has been primarily contested on a pragmatic problem-solving basis, the liberal side has usually won.  Democrats usually win when policy is at issue.  Republicans usually win when ideology is at issue. 

Given the predominance of right-wing ideology in American culture and in our psyches, liberals cannot win an ideological battle in this country.  Ideology goes to the right.  But reason goes to the left and liberals can win contests that are based on facts, reason, and practical policies. The last two presidential races that featured the fear-mongering and right-wing ideological appeals of Donald Trump and the Republican Party, and the mid-term election of 2018 that featured the programmatic appeals of the Democrats, exemplify this situation.

The Democrats won the mid-term election handily.  Pragmatic reasoning prevailed.  The Republicans won the 2016 election and although they narrowly lost the 2020 presidential contest, Trump made it unexpectedly close and Republicans did unexpectedly well in Congressional races and in state legislative races.  And they did this despite Trump’s overwhelmingly awful policies and personal behavior.  His race-baiting and fear-mongering countered and almost overcame the pragmatic appeals of the Democrats.  Controlling the nature of the debate seems to be a key to which part of our national psyche will win out and which party will win elections.

But as the closeness and mixed outcome of the recent election shows, trying to control the terms of the debate is not enough to ensure that reason will prevail.  It is not enough for liberals to run well-reasoned campaigns in order for rationality to prevail.  Ideology is too powerful to neglect.  While liberals cannot win an ideological contest, they need to blunt the effect of right-wing fearmongering and make it easier for appeals to pragmatic reason to succeed. 

So, it is important to try to undermine the underlying right-wing ideology by exposing it and examining its sources.  Not by merely opposing it and certainly not by banning it.  But by unearthing the prejudices that are at its base and critiquing the culture that conveys it.  Ideology can be influenced by thinking about the things that we take for granted, exposing the prejudices that are buried within them, and confronting them with facts and reasoning.  

Take, for example, Walt Disney’s Three Little Pigs, a story about child-size beings being threatened by a grownup-size predator.  In the story, a big black wolf tries to kill and eat three little pinkish pigs who are forced to use their wits to save themselves.  It is a very appealing story to little kids who live in a big world that they feel threatened by and do not understand. 

The ideological problem with this story is that wolves are almost never black and pigs are almost never pink.  As such, the story is embedded with racist implications against Blacks, and it promotes fear of others who might be different from the reader.  It is essentially an anti-social Social Darwinian tale.  And it is an ever-popular mainstay of children’s literature that is rarely examined for its political implications. 

Dr. Seuss, for one, responded to Disney’s racist messaging with stories such as Sneetches and Horton Hears a Who that preach the virtues of racial and ethnic diversity and cooperation.  While Dr. Seuss’ stories are designed to counterprogram children with a liberal ideology, a key difference between his stories and those of Disney and other right-wing storytellers is that Dr. Seuss’ stories are intended to provoke thought and debate, not merely indoctrination.  In his story The Cat in the Hat, for example, he sets up a moral dilemma and then ends the story with the question “Well what would you do?”  Dr. Seuss’ messages are intended to be analyzed and, if accepted, be accepted on the basis of reason not on prejudice or fear.[4] 

Because the right-wing messages conveyed in children’s literature are rarely exposed and examined, these stories can have the effect of implanting and reinforcing right-wing prejudices that children carry with them into adulthood — which is the purpose and point of my discussion of the stories of Robert Louis Stevenson.[5]              

Political Ideology of Robert Louis Stevenson: A Litterateur’s Social Darwinism.

Stevenson outlined his political philosophy in an article called “The Day After Tomorrow” that appeared in April, 1887, in the same decade as the four books being discussed herein.[6]  In it, he bemoaned that “we are all becoming Socialists without knowing it.”  That is, he claimed, Great Britain was slowly but surely being taken over by a creeping socialism which was leading to “a form of servitude most galling.”  Britain having adopted what was effectively universal male suffrage, he warned that the lower-class masses were busy regulating the freedom out of free enterprise.  Britain was evolving toward a “beneficent tyranny” that would reduce everyone to slavery and society to an “ant heap” of malingerers and mindless worker ants.

Stevenson insisted that socialism cannot work because its emphasis on equality and fraternity is inconsistent with human nature.  People are neither equal nor widely fraternal.  Jealousy, competition, and the desire for high risk and high rank are endemic to humans.  “Danger, enterprise, hope, the novel, the aleatory, is dearer to man than regular meals,” he claimed.  Equality and fraternity are fool’s fantasies because people will inevitably fight with each other for place and power.  All in all, Stevenson seemed to be saying that you can take the man out of the jungle but you cannot take the jungle out of the man. 

Stevenson’s political ideology was essentially a form of Social Darwinism.  Social Darwinism was a right-wing social and political doctrine that emerged in the late nineteenth century as a self-styled offshoot of Charles Darwin’s biological theory of evolution.  It is actually a misnomer to call this doctrine Social Darwinism since it is essentially anti-social and anti-Darwinian, but in adopting the name, right-wingers tried to give a scientific gloss to their unscientific ideas.

Social Darwinians essentially denied the existence of society and the sociability that we normally attribute to people in society.  They claimed that what we call society is merely a collection of individuals, all of whom are in continual conflict with each other.  In turn, they contended that life is a zero-sum game in which one person’s gain entails another person’s loss, and in which surviving and thriving are defined in terms of an individual’s wealth and power.

Social Darwinians ascribe the success of a person or a social group to their virtues.  Wealthy people are superior people who deserve to be rich and to rule.  Social Darwinians, in turn, ascribe the poverty of a person or a social group to their vices.  The poor deserve to be poor because they are inferior and it is their inferiority that makes them poor.  Trying to help them is a waste of resources, and taxing the rich to help the poor hurts the economy which hurts us all.[7] 

Darwin did not agree and he was not a Social Darwinian.  Darwin was relatively liberal in his politics and unlike the Social Darwinians who promoted individualism as the key to human success, Darwin argued that human sociability and humans’ aptitude for cooperation were keys to the survival and success of the human species. 

Stevenson was a self-styled Social Darwinian. Although few right-wingers today would call themselves Social Darwinians – Darwin and his theory of evolution being taboo among most right-wingers today – the doctrine has survived under the guise of populism which in its current form is essentially an appeal to the popular prejudices of the white majority.  And it is the core of right-wing ideology in America.[8]

Ideology in Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and The Wrong Box: A Zero-Sum Game.

Stevenson’s two most popular novels for adults are Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, first published in 1886 and The Wrong Box, first published in 1889.  Both books have been made into popular movies, Dr. Jekyll eight times, The Wrong Box only once but it is one of the most hilarious movies ever made.  The books exemplify Stevenson’s wide range of interests and styles.  Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is a macabre Gothic tale of bipolar identities.  The Wrong Box is a light-hearted comedy of manners and mistaken identities. 

Both novels focus on questions of identity – who and what a human is – and morality – who and what is right and wrong.  The books answer these questions with a view of humans as fundamentally evil, and a view of society as a struggle of every fallen man for himself with the devil taking the hindmost.  The books exemplify Stevenson’s Social Darwinian political attitudes that are also embedded in his children’s novels.  

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde: The Not-So-Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.

Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is a condemnation of altruism.  It is a story about the way in which intending to do good is inevitably tainted with evil, and trying to do good can cause evil greater than that which the do-gooder was trying to eliminate.  The story dramatizes what Stevenson saw as the two-sidedness of humans.  Characters are described as two-sided, with selfishness underlying what seems to be altruism, and violence lurking beneath a surface of tranquility.  The story is a testament to the bestiality in supposedly civilized humans and the yen for wickedness in avowedly virtuous people.  It is at base a cynical and anti-social view of humanity. 

Although Stevenson was an atheist, he grew up in a Calvinist family, and Calvinist themes of sin and evil permeate the book, albeit in an ironic way.  Stevenson seems to be making fun of his religious background.  The story dramatizes what Calvinists would call the curse of Original Sin on humanity – we are all imbued with evil – and is a warning about the sinfulness of trying to undo that curse.  Dr. Jekyllis a scientist with a messianic plan to rid humanity of evil.  His plan – which Calvinists would condemn as blasphemy – is doomed and damned in its inception. 

In conventional interpretations of the story, Dr. Jekyll is a good guy and Mr. Hyde is a bad guy.  The story is seen as a struggle of good against evil.  But if you look closely, I think you can see that while Hyde really is really bad, Jekyll is not so good.  In his plan to eliminate selfishness and evil from humanity, Jekyll is himself driven by selfish ambition, drawn to the pleasures of evil, and damned through moral weakness.

The story is told through the eyes of a lawyer named Utterson and, significantly, the book opens with a description of him as having a two-sided personality.  On the outside, Utterson is a cold, calculating and very repressed person, a model of moral rectitude.  But on the inside, he is a passionate person, filled with desires and impulses that he conscientiously represses but whose expression he seemingly enjoys vicariously in others.  Utterson is attracted to reprobates and he frequently defends them in court, the guilty as well as the innocent.[9]

Utterson instigates the action in the story and it proceeds as something of a mystery as he tries to figure out what has happened to his friend Dr. Jekyll.  Jekyll had always been a friendly and upright person who inspired respect, but he has been strangely reclusive of late.  And he has been hanging out with a Mr. Hyde who even Utterson, who is generally attracted to lowlifes, finds repulsive.  Utterson describes Hyde as inspiring “disgust, loathing and fear” and having “Satan’s signature on his face.” And Hyde seems to have some kind of control over Jekyll.  The situation presents a mystery that Utterson wants to solve for the sake of his friend but also as a matter of personal curiosity, the lawyer in him seemingly attracted by the scent of evil in the air.[10]   

The action begins with Utterson hearing that Hyde has murdered a girl for seemingly no reason, and has then bought his way out of prosecution with money provided by Jekyll.  Utterson does not seem surprised that someone could buy his way out of prosecution for murder, which is seemingly a comment directed by Stevenson to us readers about the corruption of the legal system and society in general.  But Utterson is surprised that Jekyll is covering for Hyde.  He is even more surprised when he subsequently discovers that Jekyll has redone his will and is leaving everything to Hyde in the event Jekyll dies or disappears for three months.[11]

But it is Hyde who disappears after killing an old man, again for seemingly no reason except the pleasure of killing.  When Utterson’s law clerk notices a remarkable similarity between the handwriting of Jekyll and Hyde, Utterson goes to Jekyll’s house where he and Jekyll’s butler break into Jekyll’s laboratory.  They find Hyde dead on the floor, an apparent suicide.  There is a letter from Jekyll to Utterson that explains the mystery.[12]

In the letter, Jekyll claims “that man is not truly one, but truly two,” and that he had conducted secret experiments to split himself into two different men, one of whom would ostensibly represent his good self and the other his evil self.  His goal was then to eliminate the evil self and leave only the good self to live on.  Applied to all of humanity, the process would end “the curse of mankind” and fulfill Jekyll’s “beloved dream” of making the world a paradise.[13]

Jekyll had conducted secret experiments and made a drug with which he could transform himself back and forth between his benign self as Dr. Jekyll and his evil self as Mr. Hyde.  Hyde was a small and horribly ugly man who was repulsive to everyone that encountered him.  He was morally repulsive as well and enjoyed hurting and killing people.  In recounting his actions as Hyde, Jekyll reports that when he was Hyde, “the spirit of hell awoke in me” and he committed murders and other outrages “with glee.”[14]

Although Jekyll could seemingly achieve his beneficent goal of eliminating the evil in himself by just remaining as Jekyll and refusing to turn himself into Hyde, he was not content to remain Jekyll and was strongly attracted to being Hyde.  He reports in his letter that as time passed, he enjoyed being Hyde more than being Jekyll and he spent increasingly more time doing horrible things as Hyde.  Eventually Jekyll came to have a horror of Hyde and decided to remain Jekyll.

But he couldn’t control the process and started spontaneously switching into Hyde mode.  He was also having increasing difficulty transforming back into Jekyll.  In the end, Jekyll ran out of the drug and committed suicide rather than spend the rest of his life as Hyde.  Significantly, he took the form of Hyde in death, implying that Jekyll’s base side was his basic self.[15] 

The story has an ironical and cynical twist.  Contrary to conventional interpretations that see Jekyll as a tragic hero who is redeemed by his suicide, Stevenson seems to intend readers to see Jekyll as wrong and wrongheaded in trying to eliminate human evil.  Evil is part and parcel of humanity.  Trying to separate it out only accentuates it.  His suicide is a function of his embarrassment as much as his feelings of guilt. 

At the same time, Stevenson intends readers to identify with Jekyll’s willingness to defy society and take a dare in pursuit of his own ends.  Jekyll is clearly a more interesting character than the boring lawyer Utterson, who represents conventionality and merely observes other people’s adventures.  In this respect, Stevenson expects readers to overlook and effectively endorse Jekyll’s antisocial and egoistic behavior, essentially making him into a model of right-wing ideology that we readers are implicitly encouraged to endorse.

The message of the book is that selfishness and pridefulness underlie everything people do, including deeds intended to be good.  Altruism is a lie and intending to do good is a source of evil.  Humans are aggressively bestial by nature. Trying to eliminate evil only intensifies it.  We have to accept the predominance of evil in us and in the world.  The best we can do to avoid mass murder all around is to repress our worst desires and redirect our aggressive impulses into less harmful, albeit still selfish, channels.  It is a cynical message.

The Wrong Box: Do unto others before they do unto you.

The Wrong Box is a testament to survival of the sneakiest.  The story revolves around a legal device known as a tontine.  A tontine is a type of lottery in which each parent in a group of parents deposits a small sum of money in the name of his child into a common fund that is managed by a financial institution.  The fund is expected to grow over time and the last surviving one of the children gets the whole thing.  It is a relatively small gamble that could yield substantial rewards to the one who wins. 

The story is a comedy, that is, a dramatic form about a conflict between wise people and fools.  The story is written in a facetious and sarcastic tone that cynically makes fun of almost everyone and everything in the book.  The narrator derides the whole idea of a tontine, describing it as an exercise in futility since the winner will invariably be too old to enjoy his winnings, “so that he might as well have lost.”  The narrator takes us readers into his confidence as confederates, as fellow wise people, who are superior to the insipid people about whom he writes.[16]    

Everyone in the book is portrayed as a fool, except for Michael.  Michael is a clever young lawyer who is the unlikely winner of the tontine in the story.  Through a series of devious manipulations, he secures for himself the rights of the last two surviving participants.  It doesn’t matter which one of them dies first; he wins.  With Michael, we are expected to identify.     

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is an overtly moral tale with a moral, albeit immoral, message.  In a preface to The Wrong Box, Stevenson disclaims any such intentions for The Wrong Box, and claims the story is without any other purpose than “judicious levity.”  But the situation and the events of the story belie his disclaimer.  The tontine serves, in fact, as a judicious metaphor for the dog-eat-dog, Social Darwinian world that the story describes.  In a tontine and in a tontine-like society, one person’s loss is another person’s gain, and one person’s gain is another person’s loss.  Society in this story is a Social Darwinian zero-sum proposition. 

It is survival of the fittest with unscrupulousness as the test of fitness.  Everyone in the story has a con of some sort and is trying to get over on somebody or everybody.   Cynicism abounds.  The judicial system is portrayed as an instrument of anti-social selfishness and self-centeredness.  The law is not a vehicle for justice but a vehicle for people’s aggressiveness and ill wishes toward each other.  Society is not a vehicle for cooperation or caring but for people’s aggression, enmity, and competition to the death.  And in making readers his comrades, the narrator sucks us into his right-wing ideological world view. 

The story has a convoluted plot-line that zigs and zags humorously around, almost like a shaggy dog story.  The main characters are two old men, brothers Joseph and Masterman Finsbury, who are the last surviving participants in a tontine, and their nephews, each of whom hopes that his uncle will win the tontine so that he can inherit the money. 

Masterman is a retired businessman.  He lives with his nephew Michael, a wealthy, well-known lawyer.  Michael is “a trafficker in shady affairs” who specializes in representing petty crooks and other losers in the social struggle for survival.  He is also an inveterate drunkard, party goer, and practical joker.  His mantra could perhaps be summarized as “all for fun and fun for all.”[17]

Joseph Finsbury is a hard-up, part-time lecturer who is a pedantic bore and boor.  He lives with his nephews Morris and John.  The nephews are willing to do almost anything to have their uncle win the tontine so that they can get his money, and their behavior is abominable.

As the story goes, Joseph, Morris and John are traveling together on a train that crashes.  An old man who looks like Joseph is killed, and Morris and John think that it is Joseph.  If Joseph has died before Masterman has died, it is death to their hopes of inheriting the tontine money.  In order not to lose the tontine, they concoct a scheme to hide what they think is Joseph’s body until Masterman dies.  At that point they will claim the tontine and then produce Joseph’s body with the explanation that Joseph had just died.[18] 

So, Morris and John put the dead old man’s body in a box and ship it to themselves.  The box is, however, misdelivered to a failed artist named Pitman who just happens to be a client of Michael.  Pitman consults Michael about what to do with the body.  They put it in a piano and take it to the house of another lawyer whom Michael dislikes.  Michael is inebriated throughout the story and thinks the whole thing is a great practical joke and great fun. 

Another box containing a priceless sculpture that was supposed to go to Pitman is misdelivered to Morris and John.  Aghast that they seem to have lost their uncle’s body, they promptly destroy the sculpture.  Then step by step, Morris and John do one illegal thing after another in their desperate search for the dead body.

Meanwhile, Michael coincidentally meets Joseph in a pub.  Joseph had escaped unharmed from the train crash and has ever since been wandering around the countryside boring everyone he meets.  Michael convinces Joseph to sell Michael his rights to the tontine in exchange for money to support himself.  Since Michael is already the heir of Masterman, the story ends with Michael having manipulated his way to getting the tontine rights of both Joseph and Masterman.[19]

It is said that in the world of the blind, the one-eyed man is king.  Michael is the king in this story.  He is a low-life who disdains social norms and lives in an alcoholic haze.  But he is a devilishly clever man who is able to take advantage of others’ weaknesses to aggrandize himself.  Not viciously but, nonetheless, callously.  In a Hobbesian world in which everyone is at war with everyone else, he is able to perform legal judo and get everyone else fighting each other so that he can emerge scot-free — the definition of survival of the fittest in a Social Darwinian society.       

Ideology in Treasure Island and Kidnapped: Stevenson’s Scotland.

Treasure Island and Kidnapped were written in the late nineteenth century but are set in Scotland during the mid-eighteenth century.  This was the era of Bonnie Prince Charlie and the vainglorious attempts by small bands of reactionary and recidivist insurgents from the Catholic Highlands of Scotland to overthrow the Hanoverian King George III and return a Jacobite Stuart king to the throne of the United Kingdom.  It was a lost cause that was romanticized by Scottish conservatives, including Sir Walter Scott in his highly popular novels and Robert Louis Stevenson in Kidnapped

The Scottish Highlands in the eighteenth century were an economically and culturally backwoods area – -poverty stricken, clan ridden, largely illiterate, and largely stuck in place from the Middle Ages.  From reading Treasure Island and Kidnapped, you could easily conclude that Scotland as a whole was a backward country of bands, brigands, and clans, most of them in conflict with each other and all of them in conflict with England.  And that most Scots were ignorant, superstitious, and semiliterate at best.  But that was only true of the Highlands.

A more complete picture of eighteenth-century Scotland would lead you to a very different conclusion.  This was the age of what is called the Scottish Enlightenment during which Scottish thinkers from Francis Hutcheson to David Hume to Adam Smith developed the rationalist and humanitarian theories that have actuated liberals and liberal societies ever since, including the United States.  In contrast to the Scottish Highlands, Lowland Scotland, which constituted the great majority of the country, was a center stage in what has been called the Age of Reason and a major influence on the emerging United States.  Highly educated, highly civilized, and highly commercial, the Lowlands Scots were the models of a modern society.[20]

Thomas Jefferson, James Madison and many others among the American Founders had studied with disciples of Hutcheson, and had adopted Hutcheson’s philosophy as their own, including when they drafted the Declaration of Independence.  It is Hutcheson who coined the phrase “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness,” which is enshrined in the American Declaration of Independence as the key to a good society.  By this formula, Hutcheson meant that seeking the happiness of others was the goal of a good life in which liberty was the means thereto. [21]  

Hutcheson also coined the phrase “the greatest happiness for the greatest number of people” as the goal of a good society, a formula that has become a key benchmark in democratic societies such as the United States. By this formula, he meant that living and working with others, as opposed to working against others, was the way in which a society should be organized and in which people could best develop their own selves.   

Hutcheson’s ideas, as further developed by other Scots during the Scottish Enlightenment, were adopted by the Founders of the United States and were the principles behind the emerging theories and practices of liberalism in the United States.  Stevenson did not share the principles of his eighteenth century Scottish forebears and he essentially derided them in his novels.  As such, it was seemingly no accident that he set Treasure Island and Kidnapped in the Highlands.  Eschewing the progressive Lowlands and setting his stories in the regressive Highlands was effectively an ideological statement.  Society, he is telling kids, is inherently a virulent mess.

Treasure Island: Finders Keepers, Losers Weepers.

Treasure Island is the story of a quest for stolen loot, and not for any altruistic purpose of giving it back to its rightful owners.  First published in 1883, it is told through the eyes of Jim Hawkins, an adolescent boy who lives with his parents in a rundown inn in a rundown rural community.  They are not well-to-do but they are members of the propertied class, and not mere laborers.  As the story unfolds, Jim takes a treasure map from the sea chest of a sailor who has died at his parents’ inn.  He takes it to the local squire, Squire Trelawney, who impetuously decides to finance a voyage to find the treasure on the island designated on the map.  The squire takes Jim and a local doctor, Dr. Livesay, along on the trip. 

Unfortunately, the squire also takes along a group of pirates as the crew on his ship, pirates who have been looking for the same loot and who intend to hijack the ship and take the treasure once it is found.  Many bloody battles, devious plots, surprise disclosures, and acts of derring-do occur.  In the end, the pirates are foiled and Jim and his colleagues end up with the treasure. They share it out among themselves and become wealthy men.  

Treasure Island exemplifies the main themes of both Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and The Wrong Box, particularly the two-sided good-and-evil nature of people and the us-versus-them zero-sum competition among humans for survival and success.  All of the main characters are explicitly two-sided.  Jim, the narrator and hero, is normally a shy and deferential boy, but he responds to the crisis situations in which he finds himself with unthinking gut reactions, and does what he wants irrespective of what is wise or what he is supposed to do. 

Jim gets lucky.  He repeatedly saves the day with his impetuous and irresponsible actions.  At one point, for example, he hides in an apple barrel on the ship and overhears the pirates plotting mutiny, which enables Jim and his colleagues to escape to the island.  Later, on the island, he absconds from the fortress where he has been holding out with his colleagues and ends up singlehandedly retaking the ship from the pirates. Jim is himself astonished at “the mad notions that contributed so much to save our lives.”  And Dr. Livesay says of Jim that “There is a kind of fate in this… Every step it’s you that saves lives,” even though they were likely to be missteps.[22] 

Dr. Livesay is the local magistrate as well as the local physician and local intellectual.  As a doctor he is kind and caring, but as a magistrate he is strict and harsh.  His clear-thinking plans are a key to the success of the band of treasure hunters, but his kindness in treating the medical needs of the pirates increases the danger to his colleagues.

Squire Trelawney is the lord of the locality.  A wealthy man, he is generous to those around him, but he is also a vain, big-mouthed fool who is easily deceived, especially with flattery.  He is fooled by Silver into hiring a band of pirates as his ship’s crew.

Captain Smollett is the captain of the ship that the squire hires for the adventure.  He has a good heart as a friend but he is a martinet as a ship captain, without any flexibility with people or with rules.  His inflexibility leads to strategic blunders that endanger the enterprise.[23]

But the main and most interesting character in the story is Long John Silver.  Silver is a Jekyll and Hyde character, with the lust for gold as the thing that transforms him from Jekyll to Hyde.  At the beginning of the story, he is a popular innkeeper who is described as “a clean and pleasant-tempered landlord.”  Silver is an educated man.  He has gone to school, which was rare at that time and place for any but the elite.  A sailor says of him that “He had good schooling in his young days and can speak like a book when so-minded.”  He has money and even a bank account, which was a status symbol that indicated gentility.  And he is happily and devotedly married.  All of these are unusual characteristics for a former pirate chief.[24]

But when gold is at stake, Silver becomes a beast.  His very face and body change.  When he learns what Jim and his colleagues are after, Silver connives to become the cook on Squire Trelawney’s ship and dupes Trelawney into hiring a gang of Silver’s former pirate mates as the crew of the ship. 

In the course of their voyage to the island, Silver is a model sailor, all gentleness and kindness toward Jim and deferential toward the captain, the squire and the doctor.  But once they get to the island, Silver becomes a complete villain, repeatedly killing people in cold-blood and executing vicious attacks on Jim and his colleagues.  Then, ipso facto, at the end of the story, when the battle for the gold is over and he has lost, Silver becomes “the same bland, polite, obsequious seaman of the voyage out,” he escapes captivity, and he reportedly goes off incognito to rejoin his wife and resume his previous innkeeper’s life.[25]

I think that there are at least three key moral and political implications of the story.  The first is that Jim and Silver are in many important ways two sides of the same coin.  Despite everything Silver does, Jim is fascinated by Silver from beginning to end.  And despite everything Silver is and does, he is seemingly genuinely attached to Jim.  Jim is a Jekyll-like person with some Hyde in him.  Silver is a Hyde-like person with some Jekyll in him. 

Both Jim and Silver are capable of living within conventional norms but are also liable to break out of them given the appropriate stimulus.  They both go with their gut reactions and have an internal drive that carries them outside normal bounds.  More so Silver, but he has seemingly done what it takes to be successful and is admired for his success by even Dr. Livesay, the spokesperson for conventionality in the book.  Jim is similarly admired by Livesay for, as well as despite, his impetuosity.  The moral seems to be that there is Hyde in all of us, and that it is the Hyde that makes us interesting and successful.  

A second implication is that the lower classes are inferior and dangerous to the upper classes, and must be kept down in a place of obeisance and obedience.  It’s an “us-against-them” struggle.  Other than Silver, who is a special person, the pirates are stupidly reckless and incapable of self-discipline.  They live slovenly lives solely for the moment.  And Silver’s efforts to make them follow a reasonable plan of attack is like herding cats.  Dr. Livesay says of them that they demonstrated an “entire unfitness for anything like a prolonged campaign,” which is why they lost.[26]  Livesay’s commentary on the pirates is the commonplace right-wing attitude toward the lower classes to the present day, and Stevenson reinforces this attitude in his story.[27]

The third implication is that survival of the fittest is a zero-sum game, and to the survivors go all the spoils. The adventure began as a selfish venture for loot and it ends in the same way.  Significantly, not only do the squire and the doctor, who are running the show, fail to turn over the loot to the authorities or try to return any of it to the original owners from whom it was stolen, they don’t even give a share to the families of members of their band who were killed in the struggle with the pirates.  Just like a tontine.

So, we have here a story of an adolescent boy whose irresponsible, individualistic behavior endangers himself and others, but he ends up putting down the vicious lower classes while elevating himself into the rich upper class.  It is an adolescent boy’s dream and a heroic tale designed to appeal to adolescents.  And so it does.  The bottom line, however, is that although there is friendship and loyalty among social equals in this tale, which is its saving grace, the story conveys a fundamental message of selfish individualism and anti-social cynicism.   

Kidnapped: Finding a diamond in the rough.

Like Treasure Island, Kidnapped is a story about a quest for stolen property.  In this case, it is property that has been illegally appropriated by the uncle of the protagonist David Balfour.  First published in 1886, the story takes place in mid-eighteenth-century Scotland in the midst of the Jacobite uprisings.  The Jacobites were supporters of the heirs of King James II, who had been deposed in 1688 because he was Catholic.  They were attempting to overthrow the Protestant British King George III and replace him with James’ Catholic grandson Charles Stuart, who was known as Bonnie Prince Charlie.  The largely Protestant Lowlands in Scotland were pro-George.  The largely Catholic Highlands were pro-Charles. 

David is a seventeen-year-old orphan whose father was a schoolmaster of genteel birth.  He is a Lowland Protestant whose family supported King George.  Upon the death of his parents, David goes to live with his uncle.  His uncle is afraid that David will claim property that the uncle had withheld from David’s father and that should rightfully be David’s.  So, he tries to kill David but does not succeed.  Having survived the attempt on his life, David thinks he has leverage to get something out of his uncle.[28] 

However, his uncle fools David into accompanying him onto a ship, whereupon the captain of the ship knocks David out and sets off on a voyage to America where he intends to deposit David.  But the ship sinks off the coast of the Scottish Highlands, and David escapes thereto.  Hopelessly lost and without any means of survival, David meets up with Alan Stuart, a Jacobite nobleman trying to avoid the law, and trying to get himself and some money to France where Prince Charlie is organizing his efforts to seize the British throne.[29] 

David is a shy boy, upright and innocent of the world.  Alan is a worldly person and a scoundrel.  He is incredibly vain and even makes up heroic songs about himself.  He is also easily angered and ready to kill anyone who insults him.  David says of him that “I was always in danger of smiling at his vanity,” which could have meant death.  Alan is a thief and a stone-cold killer.    

Despite their different backgrounds and opposing religious and political loyalties, David and Alan bond as friends and allies, and they wander together across Scotland.  Their connection is similar to that of Jim and Silver in Treasure Island.[30]  Stevenson’s Social Darwinism has a place for personal friendships and personal loyalties that defy social norms.  David opines that “No class of men is altogether bad, but each has its own faults and virtues.”  That is, everyone is right in his rightful place, but friendship can exist between members of different social orders.  

We see in each of the four books discussed in this essay an affinity on the part of the innocent and decent characters for the depraved and indecent characters.  “We must bear and forbear” each other, David concludesThis could seem on its face to be a form of tolerance of those who are different, but it is really a form of anti-social cynicism and an affirmation of the Hyde in all of us.  And we are all of us engaged in a survival of the strongest competition.[31]    

The Scotland that David and Alan traverse is a complex web of us-versus-them conflicts between clans.  Highland society is based on loyalty to clans and charismatic clan leaders.  Alan is involved in many of these disputes and drags David into them with him.  This is the ugly side of clan society.  At the same time, David is repeatedly sick and is repeatedly nursed to health by strangers because of his connection with Alan.  This is the saving grace of clan society.[32]    

David repeatedly makes rash judgments and decisions that put himself in danger and outside the law.  He watches as Alan kills two men.  He helps Alan cover up a murder committed by a member of Alan’s clan.  He essentially commits treason in helping the traitor Alan get to France to help overthrow the British government.  But all’s well that ends well.  In the end, Alan gets away to France and David ends up with a nice hunk of his uncle’s ill-gotten property. 

Like Treasure Island, Kidnapped is an adolescent boy’s dream.  The bottom line, however, is that it conveys a fundamental message of selfish individualism and anti-social cynicism.

Seeking the Truism in Altruism.

Story #3. An adolescent boy, who has been raised and regularly mistreated by his aunt and uncle, finds that he has special talents and is recruited to a school for similarly gifted kids.  At this school, students are taught to develop their talents, use them in the public interest, and not abuse them for private interests or personal power.  The boy has to overcome many obstacles in the course of his education, and is successful in large part because he invariably acts in the interests of others and the community.  His good intentions are his greatest strength.  In the end, he is able to save the world from a catastrophe because of his courage and his altruistic motives. 

The danger to the world in the story stems from the efforts of an evil man to steal a powerfully magic talisman that would make him virtually invincible.  The talisman is magically hidden in a mirror.  A person can retrieve it from the mirror only if the person does not intend to use it for personal benefit.  The evil person, who wants to use it for his personal benefit, cannot retrieve it.  The boy, who wants to retrieve it only to help save the world from the evil man, is able to face down the evil man and retrieve the talisman, thereby saving the world.         

This story is a brief outline of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone by J.K. Rowling, which was first published in 1997.[33]  The seven Harry Potter books are perhaps the most celebrated of recent books for children that convey a very pro-social and essentially liberal message, very different from the message in Stevenson’s stories.  Although Harry is genuinely heroic, he is not a superhero.  He is not the smartest or most proficient wizard among his colleagues.  He is genuinely humble, and the dominant message of the books is one of respect for everyone, including all sorts of non-human creatures. 

The Harry Potter books also promote the use of evidence and reason in response to problems rather than knee-jerk emotional and prejudicial reactions.  In each book, a main theme and a main plot-line involves the need to use evidence and reason to overcome knee-jerk reactions.   

Rowling’s books are not unique in their pro-social messaging.  There has been a long line of pro-social children’s books that goes back at least to the turn of the twentieth century, and that have competed for the hearts and minds of young readers.  Among these books are The Wizard of Oz and the subsequent Oz books by L Frank Baum.  First published in 1900, The Wizard of Oz presaged the Progressive Era of liberal politics in America.  Maybe the same is happening now?  In the recent election, some two-thirds of voters under the age of thirty voted for the Democrat Biden.  Can this be a Harry Potter effect?  One can hope.

As we have seen with respect to Stevenson’s anti-social stories, the underlying message of a story lies not merely in the actions of its hero.  It is also in the way in which the world is portrayed.  In this regard, the message of pro-social books is not merely in the altruism of their heroes.  The background circumstances and characters are as important in providing a model of the world for young readers.  The message in the Harry Potter books lies not merely in Harry’s altruism but in the nature of Hogwarts, the school he attends, and in the norms of the magical community.  Hogwarts teaches students how to do magic but, even more importantly, they are taught to use their powers in the public interest.  They are taught to respect and cooperate with each other, and the magical community is, in turn, supposed to operate respectfully and cooperatively.   

Although students are separated into houses and the houses compete with each other, it is mainly a competition to excel.  Competition often plays a role in children’s books, but there are different types of competition, and that makes a difference to the books’ messages.  There is competition in which the goal is to defeat one’s enemy and be the last person standing.  This is the Social Darwinian competition that we see in Stevenson’s books — survival of the strongest or a tontine. 

But there is also competition in which people push each other to improve their performance levels, and the goal is to raise the bar of excellence for all.  When the eighteenth-century Scottish political economist Adam Smith promoted competition, it was this latter sort that he had in mind.  Smith was a disciple of Frances Hutchinson and, like Hutchinson, held that happiness was the result of working with and helping others.  He promoted competition toward excellence as a form of cooperation toward making social progress.  And for the most part, it is this sort of competition that is encouraged at Hogwarts which, since the school seems to channel the ethos of the eighteenth-century Scottish Enlightenment, is perhaps not coincidently located in Scotland.

Readers of the Harry Potter books absorb not only the example of Harry, but also the whole environment of Hogwarts and the magical community.  In this context, altruism is presented as essentially a truism.  Rowling is saying that altruism is the way the world ought to work and for the most part does work when people are allowed to be their best selves. 

Altruism is a truism in other books as well.  In Dr. Seuss’ Horton Hears a Who, for example, Horton’s altruism and heroism in trying to save the tiny Whos is not the only message in the book.  Just as important is that once the other animals are able to hear the Whos and, thereby, verify that the Whos are real, the other animals immediately insist that the Whos must be protected and they want to help protect them.  Their initial knee-jerk reaction when they couldn’t hear the Whos was that Horton must be crazy.  But once they have evidence of the existence of the Whos, they immediately adopt Horton’s mantra that “a person is a person, no matter how small.”  The book, thereby, presents to children a world in which it is assumed that people should and will help each other, and in which it is assumed that people will behave reasonably based on the facts.  It should also be noted that the other animals are a diverse bunch who are willing and able to live and work together.[34]

Likewise, in The Wizard of Oz, the message is not merely in the altruism of Dorothy and her companions, but in the Wizard and the nature of Emerald City.  The book is, after all, named after the Wizard and not Dorothy.  And we find out that the Wizard in fact has no magical powers at all.  He has merely the ability to convince people to do things, and with this ability, he has persuaded the people of Emerald City to cooperatively build and operate the most wonderful city you can imagine.  And the citizens immediately take in and take care of Dorothy and her companions, no matter that Dorothy’s companions are a little weird and unlike themselves.  This book portrays a world in which people are expected to work with and help each other.[35]                 

The Moral of this Essay.

The moral of this essay is that it is important to realize, expose and confront ingrained childhood prejudices as a means of defusing them so that they won’t surface in adulthood is to them.  As such, having kids read stories like those of Stevenson is something to be desired as a way of dealing with the right-wing world views that are embedded in the stories and in our kids.  Children should be encouraged to read such stories but also to think about them.  To analyze and deconstruct the ideas embedded in the stories as a means of analyzing and deconstructing the ideas embedded in themselves.  They should be encouraged to do the same with both liberal stories and right-wing stories.  It has often been said that a generous understanding is the key to a liberal mind.      

Reading and then analyzing what they have read is a way for kids to free themselves of the prejudices with which they have been indoctrinated by the people and the culture around them.  It is a way for them to be able as adults to engage with issues without unhelpful knee-jerk emotional and ideological reactions, and it is a way for them to avoid being manipulated by demagogic politicians such as Donald Trump.  It is a way for their rational and liberal selves to get the upper hand over their irrational and right-wing selves.  Which would be a blessing to us all.

                                                                                                                                    BW 12/20


[1] Bob Stevenson. “Robert Louis Stevenson: Champion of Liberty.” FEE. 8/1/78.

[2] Howard Gardner.  The Unschooled Mind. New York: BasicBooks, 1991.

[3] For elaboration on this matter, I have a blog post “Distrust in the Hinterland: Bozp the Clown Promotes Fer and Hate, and It Ain’t Funny.  Also “The Undoing Project and History as Choice: Reprogramming Your Intellect through Listening to Others.”

[4] For an elaboration on the ideology of children’s books and Disney versus Dr. Seuss, I have a blog post “What to do about the Big Bad Wolf: Narrative Choices and the Moral of a Story.”

[5] Howard Gardner.  The Unschooled Mind. New York: BasicBooks, 1991. 

[6] Robert Louis Stevenson. “The Day After Tomorrow.” The Contemporary Review. April, 1887.

[7] Richard Hofstadter.  Social Darwinism in American Thought.  Boston: Beacon Press, 1965.

[8] For the classic articulation of modern right-wing doctrine, see Edward Banfield. The Unheavenly City Revisited. Long Grove, Illinois: Waveland Press, 1974.

[9] Robert Louis Stevenson. Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1886) in The Complete Novels of Robert Louis Stevenson.  Musaicum Books, 2017, p.405.

[10]  Ibid. p. 418.

[11]  Ibid. pp. 408, 413.

[12]  Ibid. pp. 427, 432, 434, 449.

[13] Ibid. pp.460-461

[14] Ibid. p.470

[15] Ibid. pp.473-476

[16]Robert Louis Stevenson. The Wrong Box. (1889) in The Complete Novels of Robert Louis Stevenson.  Musaicum Books, 2017, p.1431.

[17]Ibid. pp. 1440, 1520.

[18] Ibid. p.1446.

[19] Ibid. p. 1568.

[20] Arthur Herman How the Scots Invented the Modern World.

[21]   Garry Wills. Inventing America: Jefferson’s Declaration of Independence. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 2002.

[22] Robert Louis Stevenson. Treasure Island. (1883) in The Complete Novels of Robert Louis Stevenson.  Musaicum Books, 2017, pp.86, 137, 191.

[23] Ibid. pp.14, 50.

[24] 53-54, 65

[25] Ibid. p..211.

[26] Ibid. p. 194.

[27] Edward Banfield. The Unheavenly City Revisited. Long Grove, Illinois: Waveland Press, 1974.

[28] Robert Louis Stevenson. Kidnapped. (1886) in The Complete Novels of Robert Louis Stevenson.  Musaicum Books, 2017, pp. 479, 496, 502, 506.  

[29] Ibid. p. 518.

[30]  Ibid. p. 549.

[31] Ibid. p. 523, 564, 656.

[32] Ibid. p. 651, 663.

[33] J.K. Rowling. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. New York: Scholastic Press, 1997.

[34] For a discussion of the ideological implications of Horton Hears a Who, I have a blog post “So what if Horton heard a Who? The Ethics of Hobbes, Hutcheson and Dr. Seuss in the Age of Trump.”

[35] For a discussion of the ideological implications of The Wizard of Oz, I have a blog post “The Will to Believe and The Wizard of Oz: Pragmatism along the Yellow Brick Road.”

Hemingway’s “The Old Man and the Sea.” A Big Fish and a Foolish Pride. Lions hunt in packs.

Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea.

A Big Fish and a Foolish Pride.

Lions hunt in packs.

Burton Weltman

School Days/School Daze: The wiseacre kid has a point.

A discussion of Ernest Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea is in progress in a class of high school sophomores.  The teacher is discoursing on the meaning of the novelette.  Most of the students are bored stiff, others are feverishly taking notes. This stuff may be on the test.  One kid is lounging in the back of the room with his hand raised.  The teacher is studiously ignoring him.

The Old Man and the Sea was first published in 1952.  Over the years, it has become a widely assigned book in middle and high school literature classes.  Itis a famous book and won a Pulitzer Prize.  It was also cited when Hemingway won the Nobel Prize for literature shortly after its publication.  It is a short and easy read, and it is full of potentially interesting things to discuss.  Assigning the book is a way of connecting young adult readers with one of the great writers of the twentieth century without requiring too much effort from them. 

The story is about the struggles of an old and impoverished fisherman from a small Cuban village.  It seemingly takes place in 1949, as the old man, who is an avid baseball fan, mentions that Joe DiMaggio, the great New York Yankee outfielder, is injured with bone spurs, and DiMaggio suffered that injury in 1949.  As the story opens, the old man has gone eighty-four days without catching a big fish and is being shunned by some of his neighbors as a purveyor of bad luck.  The old man has apparently been a loner for most of his life, but has taken on a young assistant in recent years to help him fish in his old age.  But now the parents of his assistant have banned the boy from fishing with him for fear the boy might catch the old man’s bad luck. 

The book’s opening line is “He was an old man who fished alone,” thereby highlighting the old man’s isolation.  The old man’s name is Santiago but the third person narrator of the story consistently refers to him as “the old man,” which also highlights his alienation. The old man fishes in a skiff, a small boat with oars and a sail.  The boat can be handled by one person but the other fishermen in the book seem to go out in their skiffs in groups of two or three, as had the old man with his young assistant before his shunning.  The old man is on his own and is desperate.   

In his desperation to catch a big fish, the old man decides to sail farther out from the coast than he and the other fishermen have ever gone.  After most of a day of frustration, he finally hooks a huge marlin but cannot bring in the fish all by himself.  The marlin, hooked but still game and very strong, drags the skiff farther and farther away from the coast, with the old man hanging on for dear life.  This goes on for three grueling days until the fish finally tires and the old man is able to kill it with a harpoon.  The marlin is bigger than the old man’s boat so he has to tie it to the side of the skiff, leaving the fish to float in the water as they sail back to the shore in tandem. 

The old man sets sail for home with what he celebrates as a glorious prize that will make him a lot of money and very famous.  But, no sooner does he start for home than sharks begin to attack the fish.  The old man furiously fights and kills many of the sharks, but it takes him a day to get back to shore and the marlin is completely devoured by sharks before he can get it home.  He arrives with a huge fish skeleton attached to his boat, much to the marvel of the villagers, but with nothing to sell in the market.

In the course of landing the fish and then trying to bring it back home, the old man suffers enormously from the elements, lack of food and water, lack of sleep, and injuries he sustains while fighting first with the marlin and then with the sharks.  The book contains extremely detailed descriptions of the sailing and fishing methods and the skills of the old man.  Hemingway is adept at making a riveting and moving adventure story out of complicated technical information about sailing and fishing. 

Hemingway is also able to describe well and with great empathy the suffering of the old man, whose mental and physical endurance are remarkable.  But the old man suffers lapses in both.  In the course of struggling to land the marlin, for example, the old man comes to regard the fish as simultaneously his brother and his nemesis, and he talks to the fish as though the fish is his companion.  He sporadically realizes that he is becoming delusional, but can’t stop himself.

When the old man finally reaches home, he goes almost straight to sleep.  And that is how the book ends, with the old man having a recurring dream about a group of lions he had apparently once seen on a beach in Africa when he was a young sailor working on commercial vessels.  The last line is “The Old Man was dreaming about lions.”  He loves those lions, and throughout the story he repeatedly thinks and dreams about them, and wonders “Why are they the main thing that is left?” in his memories of his life.[1]

The Old Man and the Sea tells a simple story, but that does not mean its interpretation should be simple.  Immediately upon its publication, however, the book was saddled by influential reviewers with a simplistic interpretation describing it as a paean to heroic individualism. In this view, the old man triumphs over a hostile natural and social environment, bagging his fish even though he cannot bring it home.  He is a winner in his solitary struggle for self-respect against nature and his fellow men. And the book holds his individualism up as a model for humanity.[2] This view has over the years become fixed as the conventional interpretation of the book. 

A recent reviewer, for example, referring to the old man’s perseverance in fighting the marlin and the sharks, and to his reveries about lions, has characterized the old man as a dreamer.  “A world without dreamers would be a nightmare,” this reviewer claims, and concludes that the moral of the story for readers is to persevere in their dreams, no matter what the obstacles or what other people say.[3]  

Another recent reviewer similarly sees the moral of the story as “Heroism is possible in even the most mundane circumstances.”  That is, even a lowly fisherman can be a hero and we, who are most likely mundane people, should take a lesson in heroism from the old man.[4]  Placing a seal of establishment approval on this conventional interpretation, the Encyclopedia Britannica describes the book as a “heroic novel” about man proving himself through “overcoming the challenges of nature.”  The encyclopedia concludes that the story illustrates “The ability of the human spirit to endure hardship and suffering in order to win.”[5] 

The underlying theme of conventional interpretations of the book is that the old man is a winner in his struggles with the fish, his environment, his society, and himself, and he is extolled as a heroic model for us to emulate.  This interpretation is the gist of the teacher’s discourse to the class. 

When the teacher finishes, the student in the back is finally recognized by the teacher and the kid proceeds to proclaim that in his opinion the old man was an idiot who ended up with nothing, which is what was coming to him.  The teacher coolly rejects the student’s claim, in a tone that suggests this is the sort of wiseacre comment one would expect from this kid.  But is the kid wrong?  I think not, and I think it matters.   

Conventional Interpretations: Doing a disservice to our students.

I have two main objections to the conventional interpretation of The Old Man and the Sea.  The first is that it confounds the differences between individualism and individuality.  Individualism essentially consists of doing your own thing, of, by and for yourself, irrespective of any relation with others.  Individuality essentially consists of finding your own voice and place within a group, and to make your own individual contribution to the collective effort.  The conventional interpretation describes the moral of the story as promoting individualism, whereas I think it promotes individuality.

The second problem I have with the conventional interpretation is that it misconstrues the form of the book.  There are many ways in which literary works can be characterized and categorized.  One way, which dates back to Aristotle and the ancient Greeks, is to distinguish between melodramas, tragedies, and comedies.  Melodrama can be described as a story of good against bad, good guys against bad guys, for example, or a good person battling against hostile circumstances.  

Tragedy can be defined as a story of too much of a good thing becoming bad.  Tragedy involves a character who pursues a too narrowly prescribed good too far until it turns on itself, becomes bad and precipitates disaster.  The character’s tragic flaw is pride and a lack of perspective, the failure to see things in a broader context beyond his own narrow vision.  Tragedy is a story of hubris versus humility, the failure of the tragic character to recognize his personal limits.

Comedy is generally defined as a story of wisdom versus folly, for example, wise people versus foolish people or a well-intentioned person doing something stupid.  A comedy need not be funny. It is the stupidity of the fools that make it comic.[6]  

The lines between melodrama, tragedy, and comedy are not hard and fast, and the story forms overlap in many respects.  Each, for example, can contain elements of stupidity, conflict, violence, and pride, and each can have an unhappy ending.  Too much of one element can transform one story form into another.  Conventional interpretations describe The Old Man and the Sea as either a melodrama or a tragedy, or some combination of the two.  I think it is better read as a comedy. 

Following the conventional interpretation, educational websites devoted to guiding students and teachers toward understanding the book all take the view that the story promotes individualism and takes the form of a melodrama, tragedy or combination of the two.  I think that this is a mistake and that it does a disservice to the story and to our students. 

Typifying these academic helpmeets, the website Sparknotes.com describes the story in melodramatic terms as portraying “Heroism in struggle.”  According to this website, the novel describes a kill-or-be-killed world in which each man must heroically fight for his livelihood and life.  Pride may tragically lead a person to go too far, as it did when it led the old man to sail too far from shore, but pride is the “source of greatest determination” in men.  Without pride, men are losers.  The moral of the story, according to Sparknotes, is contained in a pep talk the old man gave to himself when he said that “Man is not made for defeat” and that a man may be “destroyed but not defeated.”  Sparknotes concludes that the story teaches us that men must follow their pride and never admit defeat.[7] 

 In a similar blog addressedto school teachers and students entitled “What lessons we can learn from The Old Man and the Sea,” the writer claims the moral of the story is that “Perseverance is a universal law.”  This blogger claims the book teaches us the virtues of individualism and going it alone.  Focusing on the shunning of the old man by the villagers, the blog concludes that the lesson of the book is that each of us must individually fight our own battles no matter whether or not other people support us.[8]  Study.com, another website for students and teachers, similarly claims that a combination of hope and pride may have led the old man to go too far in search of a fish, but the marlin symbolizes redemption for him even though he loses it.[9]

Many of these study guides for students and teachers focus on the old man’s preoccupation with lions.  They invariably claim that this preoccupation symbolizes the heroic perseverance and individualism that the old man exhibits.  Litcharts.com claims, for example, that the lions represent the “rejuvenation” of the old man and the return of his pride.  Pride may be a tragic flaw, the website acknowledges, but it is a virtue as well as a vice because it spurs the hero to action.  Symbolically, according to this website, “a group of lions is called a ‘pride.’”[10] 

Shmoop.com, yet another website for persevering students, also claims that lions are persevering predators who symbolize the perseverance of the old man. The old man, this website insists, identifies with lions and they inspire his perseverance.[11]  Finally, enotes.com, whose author advertises himself as “a certified educator,” claims that the lions represent the old man’s vitality and “his victory over village prejudice.”  According to this educator, the lesson of the book for young students is to go their own ways no matter what others say.[12]

Echoing the conventional interpretation of the book, the common theme of all these educational websites is that the old man is a winner even though he ends up empty handed, seriously injured, and completely wiped out.  And the websites all claim that the book promotes the old man’s actions as a model of individualistic heroism for readers of the book.  I don’t agree.  I think these educators have misread the book and missed the boat and, speaking as a former teacher and former professor of education, I think they are doing a disservice to students.

Prides Foolish, Tragic, and Leonine: Getting things straight.

Pace the conventional interpretation, I agree with the wiseacre kid’s take on the book.  And I think his reaction reflects that of most students when they read it, which is that the old man is portrayed in the story as a fool.  It was my reaction when I first read the book some sixty years ago.  And I think the reaction of most people would be that the old man should not be fishing alone, should not have gone out as far from shore as he did, and should not have continued fighting the marlin and then the sharks, but should have cut loose the fish rather than fight him to the end and the sharks thereafter.  And, most significantly, the old man acknowledges all of this in the course of the book. 

The old man repeatedly mourns that he does not have someone else with him in the boat. “I wish I had the boy,” he recites over and over.[13]  He frequently berates himself for having forgotten to bring some necessary piece of equipment. “You should have brought many things, he thought. But you did not bring them, old man.”[14]  He admits in the end that he has been defeated and is a loser.[15]  “They truly beat me,” he acknowledges.[16]  And he blames his disastrous loss on his own foolish pride.[17]  “You violated your luck when you went too far outside,” he complains to himself.[18]  So, the wise guy reaction is the old man’s own reaction, and the conventional interpreters and teachers have got him wrong.

I think the book is best described in literary terms as a comedy since even the old man denominates himself a fool.  That does not mean we are supposed to mock or reject the old man.  He is someone with whom we are intended to identify and empathize based on our own sometimes foolish pride and risky inclinations, but he is not someone whose behavior we should emulate or promote as a role model for young people.  Rather than a paean to individualism and individual heroism, the book is an argument against individualism and an argument in favor of cooperation.  And the old man’s fixation on lions supports this conclusion.

Contrary to the way lions are mistakenly described in conventional interpretations of the book, lions are widely known for hunting in groups rather than alone, and for lacking stamina and perseverance.  Lions are the only cats who live and hunt together in groups rather than individually.  And it’s a good thing for them that they do because they have small hearts and lack stamina.  They can run fifty miles per hour for a few hundred yards, but then they are finished and give up.  If a gazelle gets a head start on a lion, it is home free.  If lions didn’t help each other with hunting, by surrounding an animal so that it can’t get away, they would starve. 

These are facts of leonine life that a big game hunter like Hemingway would surely have known, and these facts completely undermine the conventional interpretation of the lions in the book.  It is also the case that a “pride” is a group of female lions, and it is the females who generally do the hunting for the larger group of male and female lions.  A group of male lions is called a “coalition.”  Using the word “pride” to characterize the old man is, therefore, not, as conventional interpretations claim, a macho masculine reference to male lions.  In any case, the old man thinks and dreams of groups of lions who are playing together, not solitary individual lions.  His preoccupation with lions seems, therefore, to be a dream in favor of collective life, not individualism.   

The conventional interpretation also misreads the book in describing the story as a struggle of man against nature as though nature is the enemy of man and the old man must wage war against nature.  But neither the narrator in the book nor the old man describes things in those terms.  The old man and his fellow fishermen are, instead, portrayed as links in the natural chain, in the circle of life as it is popularly described in the musical “The Lion King.”  Nature is the fishermen’s element, not their enemy.[19]  When some of his neighbors shun the old man, they are essentially saying that he is a weak link in the chain and they don’t want him to break it for them altogether.  They still care about him and take care of him, but they need to protect the community.

It is the old man who declares war against nature, not vice versa.  When he decides to sail farther out than he naturally would, and then battles a fish and a pack of sharks that are too much for him, the old man undertakes an unnatural act.  It is a proudful act that takes him out of the natural chain of things, as he later admits.  In the natural chain, big fish catch and eat little fish, and people catch and eat big fish.  That is in the nature of things.  It is a struggle, but an ordinary course of business.  The old man declared war on nature where none naturally existed.

The old man compounds this misstep by anthropomorphizing the marlin and characterizing their struggle as a battle of egos and wills.  Speaking of the marlin, he says “I will show him what a man can do and what a man can endure.”[20] The old man treats the fish as though it is a self-conscious competitor, like Ahab chasing after Moby Dick, rather than merely a fish looking to eat other fish and survive.  Speaking to the fish, the old man says “Fish, he said, I love and respect you very much.  But I will kill you dead before the day ends.”[21]  Commenting on the unnatural implications of this statement, one reviewer has asked “Is killing what you love a tenable position?”[22]   In his foolish pride, the old man has left even his human nature behind.

Another crucial mistake that conventional interpreters make is to take things the old man says in the midst of his difficulties as being the old man’s and the book’s final conclusions about things.  When the old man says that a man can never be defeated and other proudful things in the course of his struggles, he is trying to egg himself on to keep up the fight.  And it works.  He fights his way through to the end of his Quixotic voyage, exhibiting a perseverance no lion could. 

But then the old man reflects further on what he is doing and has done, and he comes to conclusions opposite to what he was saying before.  Finally, he collapses and dreams of lions playing on the beach.  Not a heroic ending and not a self-styled hero.  Just a fisherman who foolishly got carried away with himself and with a fish.  And in his last conversations with the boy before he nods off to sleep, he says that he is never going to do anything so foolish again.

The Moral of the Story and the Story of the Story.

I think the moral of the story of The Old Man and the Sea consists of a plea for cooperation, pragmatism and humility. The old man’s redemption is not in catching the fish as some conventional interpreters hold but in ultimately recognizing that he is a person who needs people, as the popular song goes.  Not individualism but collectivism, and not pride but humility, is the moral.  “I missed you,” the old man admits to the boy just before he falls asleep at the end.[23]

This moral is consistent with other of Hemingway’s writings, such as his most famous book For Whom the Bell Tolls. That book takes its title and its main theme from a poem by John Donne that asserts “no man is an island,” that all people are interconnected, and that one person’s life is everyone’s life, one person’s death everyone’s death.  Hemingway is known for his macho heroes but like Robert Jordan, the hero of For Whom the Bell Tolls, they generally fight for the common good alongside common people.  The old man learns this lesson in the book.

So, how could it be that The Old Man and the Sea has been so widely misinterpreted for so long?  And how can it be that teachers routinely override a critical reading of the book by students so as to make studying the book an indoctrination in an individualistic ideology that the story doesn’t support?  I think the original misinterpretation was a product of the times in which the book was first published, and it was then carried forward by intellectual and educational inertia.

The book was published in 1952, shortly after the United States had come out of the fight against totalitarian Nazism and fascism in World War II, and when the country was engaged in a burgeoning Cold War against the collectivist Soviet Union and Red Scare against domestic Communists.  Fears of totalitarian collectivism and mindless conformity were widespread on both the anti-socialist political right and the anti-Communist political left.  Concerns that the United States was becoming a mass society in which politicians, corporations and the mass media were promoting mind control and mediocrity for political and commercial ends pervaded the political spectrum.

These concerns were typified by the popularity among conservatives of Ayn Rand’s book (1943) and movie (1949) Fountainhead which extolled individualism and excoriated collectivism.  Among liberals, The Lonely Crowd (1951) by David Reisman and others was a widely praised sociological study of conformity, focusing on the transition of Americans from being “inner-directed” by their consciences to being “other-directed” by the need to conform.  Among socialists, The Authoritarian Personality (1950) by Theodor Adorno and others was a highly regarded sociological study of the susceptibility of people, and Americans in particular, to demagogues and dictators.  On all sides of the literary political spectrum, intellectuals were looking to save the individual from being swallowed up in a mass society.

Bur there are significant political differences between individualism and individuality.  Individuality is a pro-social attitude promoted by most liberals and socialists.  Society for them is a caring community in the nature of a family.  Individualism is an anti-social attitude promoted by most conservatives.  Society for them is just a collection of individuals who are connected mainly by contracts. What happened with the interpretation of The Old Man and the Sea is just a small example of what happened to American culture during the Cold War.  Conservatives grabbed the upper hand and individualism became pervasive throughout the culture.   

The conventional interpretation of The Old Man and the Sea feeds into an anti-social conservative attitude which is not supported by the book.  When he wrote the book, Hemingway was still a man of the 1930’s for whom the individual should operate within a cooperative context.  He was still the author of For Whom the Bell Tolls.  And that, I think, is what The Old Man and the Sea is about.  “No man is an island” would be a fitting epigram for the book.  Hemingway was promoting individuality in the book, not individualism. 

Although the Cold War is long over, much of its cultural legacy lingers and this has consequences, as I think we see in the political and social conflicts occurring in the United States today. It is, therefore, long overdue to set the record straight about The Old Man and the Sea.  It is about individuality, not individualism.  The old man learns in the course of the book that he can be an individual without becoming an isolated individualist, and that he is part of a caring community.  After he gets back from his multi-day ordeal, the old man asks the boy “Did they search for me,” as though he thought the community might not care if he was lost.  The boy replies “Of course.  With coast guard and with planes.”  The old man seems gratified.  He is a part of a community and the community cares about him.[24]  This communalism in the story is generally lost in the conventional interpretation which itself gets lost in individualism. 

As teachers, we need to promote the individuality of our students.  They have to be able to think for themselves so as to better understand what is going on around them and, most important, recognize whom they can trust.  We now live in an age of “fake news” in which the mass media, and especially the all-pervasive internet, are filled with false stories and false interpretations of anything and everything.  The President of the United States has himself become our liar-in-chief and, amazingly, we cannot take as reliable truth a thing that the highest official in our country says.  So, whom can we trust and how do we know we can trust them?

It has, therefore, become more important than ever for young people to learn how to think critically and not merely accept what someone tells them, not even their teachers.  That is, I think, the moral of the moral of the story of The Old Man and the Sea.                

BW 12/14/18


[1] Ernest Hemingway.  The Old Man and the Sea. New York: Scribner Classics, 1952. pp.20, 41, 48, 72.

[2] Robert Gorham Davis. “Books: Hemmingway’s Tragic Fisherman.” Archives.NYTimes.com 9/7/52.

[3] Russell Cunningham. “Books to give you hope: The Old Man and the Sea.” theguardian.com 8/24/16.

[4] James Topham. “The Old Man and the Sea, Review.” thought.com  3/17/18.

[5] Encyclopedia Britannica. The Old Man and the Sea.” EncyclopediaBritannica.com 11/23/18.

[6] Aristotle. Poetics. New York: Hill & Wang, 1961. pp.59, 61, 81-86. Kenneth Burke. Attitudes Toward History. Boston: Beacon Press. 1961. pp 37, 39, 41. Paul Goodman. The Structure of Literature. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.1954. pp.35, 82-100, 172.

[7]The Old Man and the Sea.” Sparknotes.com  11/23/18.

[8] Matt Reimann. “What lessons we can learn from The Old Man and the Sea.” Blog.booktellyouwhy.com 10/1/15.

[9] Joe Ricker. “Symbolism of the marlin in The Old Man and the Sea.” Study.com Retrieved 12/7/18.

[10]The Old Man and the Sea: Symbol Analysis.” litcharts.com  Accessed 12/7/18.

[11]The Old Man and the Sea: The Lions.” Shmoop.com  11/23/18.

[12] Belarfon. “What significance do the lions on the beach have in The Old Man and the Sea?” enotes.com/homework-help.

[13] Ernest Hemingway. The Old Man and the Sea. New York: Scribner Classics, 1952. pp.30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 39, 49.

[14] Ernest Hemingway.  The Old Man and the Sea. New York: Scribner Classics, 1952. p.65.

[15] Ernest Hemingway.  The Old Man and the Sea. New York: Scribner Classics, 1952. p.69.

[16] Ernest Hemingway.  The Old Man and the Sea. New York: Scribner Classics, 1952. p.71.

[17] Ernest Hemingway.  The Old Man and the Sea. New York: Scribner Classics, 1952. p.62.

[18] Ernest Hemingway.  The Old Man and the Sea. New York: Scribner Classics, 1952. p.68.

[19] Ernest Hemingway.  The Old Man and the Sea. New York: Scribner Classics, 1952. pp.22, 27.

[20] Ernest Hemingway.  The Old Man and the Sea. New York: Scribner Classics, 1952. p.41.

[21] Ernest Hemingway.  The Old Man and the Sea. New York: Scribner Classics, 1952. p.34.

[22] Mary Eisenhart. “Book Review: The Old Man and the Sea.” commonsensemedia.org

[23] Ernest Hemingway.  The Old Man and the Sea. New York: Scribner Classics, 1952. p.72.

[24] Ernest Hemingway.  The Old Man and the Sea. New York: Scribner Classics, 1952. p.72.