Saturday, April 22, 2023

some links for the weekend hidden in a weekend ramble about Alan Jacobs' thoughts on a piece by Brad East at Mere Orthodoxy

https://mereorthodoxy.com/once-more-church-and-culture/

Christendom is the name we give to Christian civilization, when society, culture, law, art, family, politics, and worship are saturated by the church’s influence and informed by its authority. Christendom traces its beginnings to the fourth century after Christ; it began to ebb, in fits and starts, sometime during the transition from the late middle ages to the early modern period. It is tempting to plot its demise with the American and French revolutions, though in truth it outlasted both in many places. It came to a more or less definitive end with the world wars (in Europe) and the Cold War (in America). Even those who lament Christendom’s passing and hope for its reestablishment have no doubt that the West is post-Christian in this sense. The West will always carry within it its Christian past — whether as a living wellspring, a lingering shadow, a haunting ghost, or an exorcised demon — but it is indisputable that whatever the West has become, it is not what it once was. Christendom is no more.

 

To ask about the church’s place in society while living in Christendom is redundant. The question answers itself. The question is genuinely new, however, when posed after Christendom. For that reason it has been posed continually in the past few centuries, especially in the last 75 years. H. Richard Niebuhr’s Christ and Culture, published in 1951, is a reliable touchstone. The postwar period up to the present has seen American Protestants in particular eager, and sometimes anxious, to clarify, to solidify, and, if necessary, to resituate their relationship to the nation: its legal and political operations, its respectable professions, its educational institutions, its means of cultural production. The conversation is no closer to being resolved today than when Niebuhr first gave the lectures in Austin, Texas, that would later become his book.  …

 

Alan Jacobs saw that article and had a relatively pithy reply.  The title of his piece is “Christianity and … ?” For the TL:DR era, Jacobs points out that for all Brad East’s erudition his post begs the question of what culture actually is, which is not something that earlier writers and philosophers, particularly Johann Gottfried Herder, took as given.  A sampler:

 

https://blog.ayjay.org/christianity-and/

This essay by Brad East is very smart, and takes the Christianity-and-culture conversation usefully beyond H. Richard Niebuhr’s categories. But I have one big question: What is “culture”?

 

Almost everyone who writes on this subject treats it as unproblematic, yet it is anything but. In the late 18th century Herder wrote of Cultur (the German spelling would only later become Kultur): “Nothing is more indeterminate than this word, and nothing more deceptive than its application to all nations and periods.”

 

I suspect that (a) when most people use the term they have only the haziest sense of what they mean by it, and (b) no two writers on this subject are likely to have a substantially similar understanding of it.

…

Brad’s essay, for all its virtues, suffers from its reluctance to dismiss the eminently dismissable Niebuhr. He doesn’t straightforwardly say what he means by “culture,“ but he begins his essay thus: “Christendom is the name we give to Christian civilization, when society, culture, law, art, family, politics, and worship are saturated by the church’s influence and informed by its authority.” This suggests that culture is something distinct from the other items in the list, but if culture does not include “society, … law, art, family, politics, and worship” I’m not sure what’s left over for it to be.

…

 

Now the invocation of Herder interests me because I’ve been reading Richard Taruskin’s last book and have also been reading a recent translation of Herder’s writings about music.

 

https://www.ucpress.edu/book/9780520234956/song-loves-the-masses

Song Loves the Masses: Herder on Music and Nationalism

by Johann Gottfried Herder (Author), Philip V. Bohlman (Author), Philip V. Bohlman (Translator)

January 2017  First Edition

Pages: 336

ISBN: 9780520234956

 

One of the things I have kept running into from the Future Symphony Institute neck of the internet is something I keep running into from the Current Affairs, The Baffler, Jacobin and similar publications.  It’s a very simple ad hominem tradition of poisoning the well. John Borstlap trafficked in all over The Classical Revolution. It’s possible to share Borstlap’s affection for classical music and find is foundational approach to music history and historiography unpersuasive. Theodor Adorno rejected tonality and endorsed twelve-tone and that was construed by Borstlap as endorsing integral serialism and sonic art.  Herder, in Borstlap’s telling kinda sorta unleashed awful nationalism on the world. 

 

If it turns out that Herder the German Lutheran was a pluralist that’s immaterial to Borstlap’s narrative in which Herder and Adorno are the bad guys who ruined the West in different ways.  The late Richard Taruskin, who was as sensitive to anti-semitic and anti-Jewish trends in German writing as just about anyone in musicology, nonetheless argued we should by all means read Herder because, in a phrase, what people did with Herder’s work is not the same as what we can do with his work in our time.  The Lutheran pluralist Herder could be recovered and rehabilitated without forgetting the damaging jingoistic strains in Herder’s reception history. That task will hardly be easy but that is a task that can keep scholars busy for generations.

 

As for Adorno, had I not taken the immense trouble to slog through half a dozen of Adorno’s books myself I could have been fooled by Borstlap’s well-poisoning tactic into thinking that Adorno himself didn’t damn stochastic, aleatoric and integral serialist musics in the mid-1950s.  Adorno lambasted Boulez, Stockhausen, and Cage more than half a century ago. If Borstlap and the late Roger Scruton have merely (or even inadvertently) replicated criticisms of serialism and aleatoric musics that repeat arguments Adorno made previously, then even ostensibly conservative and “defending tradition” arguments for classical music have drawn on the work of a man who has been considered the intellectual godfather of “cultural Marxism”.

 

That woke and New Left thought are not even explicable in terms of Frankfurt School thought is a point that could be taken up at some other time but even self-identified paleo-conservative Paul Gottfried has pointed out that it’s specious in the extreme to say that the woke are Marxists. It doesn’t get more direct than “Marx Was Note Woke” but if in contemporary right-wing and center-right punditry everything is “Marxist” then those sorts of pundits will reveal they can’t be bothered to read primary source materials. 

 

In Borstlap’s approach what he tells you Adorno and Herder accomplished is more or less what there is to know about them, somewhat like contributors at Current Affairs or who write for Los Angeles Review of Books will tell you what to think about Edmund Burke so you don’t have to trouble yourself with ever reading his actual work. There are left, right and center variations of poisoning the well and it seems we live in an era in which it’s not just populist anti-intellectual demagogues poisoning any and every well they can find, it’s scholars themselves.  Criticism has reached a meta-critical phase and that can lead to crises of purpose.  Now that the Cold War has been over for close to half a century Western scholars have interrogated the assumptions and privileges of Western academia.  There’s a place for that, of course, but sometimes it seems that for those inside the academy they have not always realized how many of the branches they’ve been sitting on they’re cutting off. 

 

Take The Limits of Critique by Rita Felski; Permanent Crisis: The Humanities in a Disenchanted Age by Paul Reitter and Chad Wellmon; and Professing Criticism: Essays on the Organization of Literary Study by John Guillory.  We are living in an era in which there are crises in the humanities and the crises are related to method, purpose and legitimacy.  Samuel W. Franklin has a book out now called The Cult of Creativity: A Surprisingly Recent History. Louis Menand has a few things to say about it in The New Yorker. But if promoting creativity has turned out to be a grand strategy to promote business productivity and not the domain of the artistic genius then are we led to conclude that all of the push to creativity is just for the sake of market success?  There are certainly writers and scholars who seem persuaded of it enough they need to persuade us.

 

We live in an era of crises, mere one of which is the crisis of artists having an easier time publishing and a more impossible time monetizing the art in William Deresiewicz's  The Death of the Artist: How Creators Are Struggling to Survive in the Age of Billionaires and Big Tech.   But, as noted a paragraph ago, there are crises of purpose in the humanities and arts education.  The crisis of purpose can be construed as a crisis of faith in what criticism is actually supposed to do.  Or, as some have begun to put it, crisis has always been with us, at least in the modern era.  Criticism needs something to critique and if Western criticism has taken a meta-critical internal turn and found itself wanting, well … there were people who felt obliged to point out that critics have not been with us, not in the way critics have been since the 18th century.

 

Jacques Ellul was not the only one to point out that the critic is a recent invention and a product of the bourgeois era, nor was he the only one to highlight that the arts critic is the broker for the arts, as he put it in The Empire of Non-Sense. But Ellul’s polemic against technocratic tendencies in the arts indicted both sides of the Iron Curtain, whereas in contemporary polemics the crises that beset the humanities and the arts tend to be settled into laments that capitalism is the central harm.  You’d think Zhdanov-inspired socialist realism never made life hard for any Soviet era artists, writers, poets, film-makers and musicians to read many a thinkpiece on the state of the arts in the West these days. 

 

In the early 21st century we have Western academics discussing the Cold War as the context within which the humanities were manifestations of Western imperialism or, to put it more kindly, the liberal arts were seized upon as realms in which the value of individuals and their liberties was considered paramount to offer alternatives to socialist realism.  Thus Workshops of Empire: Stegner, Engle, and American Creative Writing during the Cold War by Eric Bennett; The Program Era: Postwar Fiction and the Rise of Creative Writing by Mark McGurl; and a bit more infamously The Cultural Cold War: The CIA and the World of Arts and Letters by Frances Stonor Saunders, made cases that the liberal arts in the West during the Cold War served the imperial interests of the United States.  That the United States backed non-Marxist forms of socialism would seem to be scandalous to some folks in the last thirty years. Everything about Western liberal arts university education has been in the service of some empire or another and it may be both inevitable and necessary that scholars point this out as a kind of scandal.

 

Sure, why wouldn’t they?  The difference between a neo-conservative and a New Leftist might be as simple as the former admitting that all state-managed educational systems are supposed to be in the service of empires while the latter are ensconced in those systems that they denigrate.  A center-right publication can grant easily that a national arts policy is going to serve a national interest, whether that policy is chiefly domestic or foreign.  Phillip Jeffery pointed out in "A Cultural Agenda for Our Time" that the crisis in the humanities in the United States after the Cold War is at least partly, if not mainly, explicable in light of the fact that the United States from the Johnson administration onward, if not earlier, was so set on defining the aim and purpose of the arts in terms of anti-communist polemics the end of the Cold War brought about multiple crises of purposes in United States arts education.  What was it for if communism faltered?  There hasn’t been a coherent answer since. 

 

John Guillory’s Cultural Capital: The Problem of Literary Canon Formation floated the idea that the canon wars were not just about the canons themselves but the status-vetting means and ends to which those canons are used in higher education.  More recently he has proposed that the core crisis in English studies as literature is that writing is something amateurs can do and that the great critics of the long 19th century were not tenured academics.  Now perhaps Ellul would still say the critics of yore were the brokers of the arts but they had real audiences.  Their platforms were newspapers rather than college classrooms. 

 

Perhaps, since I’m speculating on a weekend, we could say that there is a crisis in art religions in the West taking place within scholarship that could map out as a tension between apophatic and cataphatic disciplinary stances?  If that doesn’t make any sense to you I can’t promise these links will necessarily help, but I found them interesting reading this last week.

 

https://theopolisinstitute.com/conversations/the-eclipse-of-the-word-five-theses-on-apophaticism/

https://theopolisinstitute.com/conversations/christian-cataphaticism/

https://theopolisinstitute.com/conversations/fear-desire-and-perplexity/

 

Criticism as a discipline may still be having a crisis of purpose; liberal arts majors are seeing receding enrollments; the very purpose of criticism is enough in doubt that John Guillory has a book about the history of an avocation that was sometimes a vocation that has never quite congealed into a discipline; and amidst all this there are, unsurprisingly, Christian writers who propose that what Christians should be doing now is talking about what Christendom looks like after Christendom has ended.

 

How many of the New Testament authors devoted time to promoting a theory of Christendom?  We know the answer to this question. Zero.  How many Christians were known for formulating theories of political sovereignty in the apostolic period?  I think we know the answer to that question, too.  Scholars can and have debated how anti-imperial the Apostle Paul was and I’ve read a fun book by Christoph Heilig about how scholars have read and overlooked allusions to imperial conquest in Pauline literature.  It’s not that the authors of the New Testament had nothing to say about empires, it’s that what they had to say was not necessarily direct and not necessarily what biblical scholars looking for anti-GOP applications in NT scholarship might say is latent in the text.  The Apostle and the Empire is a worthwhile and at times bitingly funny read.

 

In a paradoxical way, as Jed Esty has pointed out in The Future of Decline, even left and liberal and progressive writers in the United States have a declinist fixation.  It’s been a while since I breezed through the book but he made a kind of case that Aaron Sorkin’s TV shows were blue state MAGA sentimentality before Trump supporters started wearing MAGA hats. 

 

When I was an impressionable teen-ager I read Francis Schaeffer’s trilogy and apparently came to the wrong conclusion so many other readers came to.  When Schaeffer said in the 1960s that United States had become a post-Christian society I took it to mean that it was pointless to talk about the U.S. as a “Christian nation” and that it was also pointless to attempt to re-Christianize it.  Apparently lots of other people too Schaeffer’s trilogy as a summons (especially on the basis of all his other work and Frank being Frank in his right-wing phase before he went blue), that Christians were supposed to do everything possible to revive Christendom. 

 

Nadia Bolz-Weber and any and everyone who identifies with the religious left or progressive evangelicalism is basically doing the same thing with a different set of nationalistic tropes.  That stuff has not interested me, no, let me put it another way, I read about these kinds of things but not as someone who can muster enthusiasm for them.  I am struck by something John Neville Figgis wrote about liberty and individuals.

 

https://archive.org/details/cu31924020347351

John Neville Figgis, Churches in the Modern State (1911 lectures given in Gloucester)

 

... In the seventeenth century it was not the isolated individual but the religious body, the sect with its passionate assertion of its own right to be, which finally won toleration from the State. By himself apart from religious discords the individual would have secured no freedom. The orgy of State-autocracy which set in with the Renaissance and was developed by the Reformation would have gone on unchecked, as, indeed, it did in those States like France or the German principalities in which uniformity in religion was enforced. It was the competing claims of religious bodies, and the inability of any single one to destroy the others, which finally secured liberty. The rights of man were their recognition of the sense of his duties towards God. Political liberty is the fruit of ecclesiastical animosities.

Lecture III. THE CIVIC STANDPOINT, Page 101

 

Individuals didn’t get liberties because some unified theory of political sovereignty got formulated, whether by integralist Catholics or Protestants defending the divine right of kings or some kind of postmillennialist theocratic libertarianism (which might as well be the married bachelor of political theory so far as I can tell). Figgis pointed out that religious liberties developed because groups were not powerful enough to both gain and keep state power on the one hand or to consistently enforce it upon the populace on the other.  As he put it, political liberty is the fruit of ecclesiastical animosities.  You can have a set of by-laws and a governing document that distributes power on paper and still have an autocracy.  This was something John Neville Figgis worried about, whether it was a single king or a parliament capable as acting in the place of a king.  I learned from years at the former Mars Hill Church in Seattle that an organization can look like it has all manner of checks and balances that mean nothing at all if the leadership culture is conformist and punitive. 

 

As I get older I am struck by how Christians in the United States are obsessed with talking about theories of sovereignty and cultural engagement and yet Mark Noll nailed it saying that evangelicals have not displayed much of a mind.  What can be too easily forgotten is he had that to say about progressive evangelicals as much as conservative evangelicals.  The sun set on the British Empire generations ago and it’s been setting on the United States but people, religious or otherwise, seem invested in the idea that if Christian nationalism prevails or the United States is magically transformed into a democratically socialist state the empire can be salvaged.

 

What essays like East’s remind me of is not just Alan Jacob’s question, which is why the definition of culture doesn’t seem to be settled, but my own question—Christian charity would seem, as I understand the teachings of Jesus, to be loving your neighbor as yourself.  Within scholastic or arts contexts I would propose that what keeps happening among theologians and theologically inclined artists and writers and poets is … it’s like church people want to solve the self-appraised church people problems of church life. 

 

I have a keen interest in something else, what can Christians do with all our history of theological reflection, musical activity, traditions of promoting aesthetic pluralism in the last seventy years without conceding aesthetic relativism … couldn’t we Christians do something to solve some problems that are perceived as problems by people in “the world”?  Are there tensions in the academy about white and black musical traditions; highbrow and lowbrow art religions; or an impasse in which capitalist and socialist partisans reduce music history to battles over which ideology is vindicated by its arts? 

 

I am not convinced that aesthetic pluralism is the same as aesthetic relativism no matter how many times highbrow art religion partisans say so.  Such assertions are made in the baddest of bad faith.  Frank Burch Brown wrote that there was a strange and funny irony (tacit, I interpret it as funny)—during the peak of the arts in Christendom no theologians bothered to delineate even the most rudimentary theories of aesthetics or even bother much to define what art is.  Yet the cathedrals got built, the chants were chanted, and music theory treatises did get written but there was not necessarily some quest for a unified theory of the aesthetic.  Then in the eighteenth century aesthetics as a field was invented and largely ignored church arts and the church, in turn, spent no large amount of time on aesthetics.  Theologians and philosophers of aesthetics have only belatedly beguncomparing notes in the last fifty years, it seems.

 

So in a way Brad East’s writing seems to take as given that if Christians just theorized clearly enough about culture that good culture would be made … ?  Do we know that will happen?  I love reading music theory books, particularly the recent turn to formal analysis and galant practice.  But I see people having turf wars over whose theory explains the music of the past better.  One theory doesn’t account for Bruckner.  Alright, someone has to like Bruckner and I just didn’t turn out to be that person.  I am fine with a theory that the blues scales can be explained as the overtone series from I and IV both because it’s plausible and because it fits the tuning systems of the instruments that have been most frequently used to play blues, whether banjo or guitar or double bass. 

 

But in a way the crises of academia in the West are circling around a more basic question of why people should be on the hook for so much student debt when scholars themselves present their professions as “workshops of empire”.  If nation states educate to produce submissive citizens then are we supposed to regard that as bad?  There is a kind of reductio ad absurdum in some liberal, progressive and leftist thought that can regard law enforcement itself as something to be abolished rather than reformed.  Freddie deBoer had a few things to say about that by way of a satire lately called “A Conversation About Crime”. It seems as though where some leftist and progressives work from an imaginary ground that a society can exist without law enforcement, culturally conservative Christians in Anglo-American contexts have a comparable fantasy that if they just formulated the right kind of theory of political sovereignty and got people to conform to it things would be comparably ideal to the cop-free socialist utopia. In the right wing variation if we just abolished all the schools and everyone home-schooled their kids it would be gravy? 

 

In neither case do I find those kinds of fantasies amenable to improving the lives of flesh and blood people. 

 

POSTSCRIPT 4-23-2023 6:53pm


https://freddiedeboer.substack.com/p/yes-we-have-to-deal-with-the-world/comment/15029270


My YA novel, The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian, is one of the most challenged and banned books of the last 20 years. According to the American Library Association, my novel was the most banned and challenged book in the United States in the decade 2010-2019. So I have more personal experience with the right wing's vilification of books and writers than just about everybody. But I'm also highly aware of the way the left censors and silences writers. And a lot of this silencing and censoring happens before a book is even published, with sensitivity readers who demand changes based on ever-shifting moral standards and definitions of "triggers" and, more dangerously, by creating an environment where writers silence and censor themselves because they fear professional and personal excommunication. As I've written elsewhere, the right wing are censorship vikings and the left wing are censorship ninjas.

Sherman Alexie's comparison is apt indeed.  When right wing people push for censorship they do full frontal assaults replete with ad hominems and scare mongering about how civilization itself will crumble before the publication of the book.  When left wing censorship occurs ... the seen ninja is a dead ninja for folks not already familiar with genre tropes.  To play with the comparison another way, in anime there's a joke that one ninja is a deadly and silent skilled assassin whereas twenty-five ninjas are sword or gun fodder.  Left wing censorship is, as described above, more likely to crop up in peer review processes with sensitivity reading and gutting the possibility of publication for a book before it even sees print.  Right wing censorship at least waits for the book to hit the market but when you think about it that way, that's consistent with many conservatives who think that the market should be the market.  It's only when schools teach books they turn to censorship, so to speak, or boycotts.


Alexie might expand on the idea a bit further.  He's been relatively quiet the last few years but here's hoping he's been on the best possible behavior.  I haven't always liked his work or his ideas but I've never wanted him "canceled".  Alexie is, I think, right to highlight that there are censorious impulses in both the left and right. I might add a modifier that there are censorious types in the left, progressive, liberal, centrist, conservative, right and reactionary scenes across the entire spectrum.  No doubt Alexie knows more about this first hand given the ups and downs of the reputation of his person and work in the last few years.  

That people want to cut their own heroes slack despite their worst behavior is a topic Claire Dederer has waded into via book.  


Here's the thing, I actually like reading Puritans and if there's any reflex I've seen among partisans of art religions it's a belief that any variant of the Puritan influence is bad.  Puritans didn't like theater so they were anti-art.  What if the Puritans disliked theater because they regarded it as predicated on deceit and as full of the sexual exploitation of minors?  That the Puritans often went way too far in cultural policing for the tastes of contemporary liberal Americans doesn't mean that contemporary liberal Americans aren't just as censorious and disapproving of people and things as Puritans in pop cultural mythology.  Judith Shulevitzs appeal to Oscar Wilde being a literary hero among LGBTQ people who seduced minors is a case where we need to separate the art from the artist is the kind of thing the late Richard Taruskin took aim at his whole career.  Why do we want to save art from being on the hook by detaching it from the lives of the often nasty artists who made it?  Matthew Arnold style art-religion of the long 19th century is precisely the collected canon of dead white guys that has come under fire and if the alternative to that is to say Michael Jackson is too big to cancel (Dederer, if memory serves, has staked out that position) then Oscar Wilde and the dead white guys are too big to cancel.

A more nuanced way to put the point is to propose that if art is just art and not some mysterious sacrament through which we receive salvation and sanctification then, sure, it's positively easy to separate the art from the artist.  Frank Burch Brown's dry but cutting observation decades ago was that people want art to have the power to sanctify us but no responsibility for corrupting us and that's precisely not what people do to, for and with actual religions.  If the clergy of formal religions are on the hook for their crimes (and plenty of religious people would assent they should be!) what's the art-religion exemption for?  Richard Taruskin made a point of asking the blunt, awkward questions about which artists we praise, blame and exempt from blame based on the agendas we have.  I'm not going to be coy in musing this weekend that for someone who actually likes some Puritans the Puritans thought those questions were worth asking and answering, too--thus, for all their bad points and historical baggage, we should still be reading Puritans just like we'll benefit from reading Edmund Burke for ourselves to distinguish between what Edmund Burke was saying to his time and place and what Bill Buckley decided to use his work for in the mid-20th century, to give a for-instance.  Taruskin, for his part, appreciated that Edmund Burke didn't shy away from the elitist and classist implications in his musings on the distinction between the beautiful and the sublime.  

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