new review of "A Commercial Republic"

I was pleased recently to stumble across a new review of A Commercial Republic. Published in the winter 2016 issue of The Historian, it was written by John Lauritz Larson, whose The Market Revolution in America is my favorite book on the Jacksonian period. Larson praised my book as "both learned (for the specialist) and thoroughly accessible (for the general reader)," saying that it "succeed[s] on both fronts" and "is a pleasure to read."

Particularly interesting to me is Larson's conclusion, in which he notes that "critics may fault O’Connor for mining existing literature instead of reporting the fruits of extensive archival research." Those critics would be accurate in their descriptions, he suggests, but misguided in their assessments. A Commercial Republic, he writes, "does something our literature desperately needs: It offers up an invitation to explore what otherwise must seem a daunting and impenetrable shelf of specialized tomes. Kudos to the author for daring to do it."

That last part reveals an implicit criticism of the contemporary university. Non-academics could be forgiven for not understanding why one would have to "dare" to encourage general readers to become interested in one's field. Don't historians want their work to be relevant to the broader cultural conversation? This is a far more complicated question than it may seem. The shortest answer, I think, would be something like "No doubt many do, but not as much as they want to get and keep a job." In professional academic circles, the coin of the realm is a narrowly-defined, professionally-sanctioned scholarship of obscurity. In a hyper-competitive market, untenured scholars engage in any other kind of work at their own peril.

When I embarked on the project that eventually became A Commercial Republic, I was a graduate student. Back then, my goal as a writer was to produce things like the essays in Harper's magazine. Why? For no other reason than that these were what I liked to read. I didn't put much thought into it, and no one ever told me that I was supposed to be doing something else. (In retrospect, though, I remember a professor's comment on my paper that read, "Because you are fluent, you content yourself with breezy generalizations." I'm not sure how much has changed, though I'd like think that, rather than breezy generalizations, A Commercial Republic features learned and well-supported ones.) I had no idea of the import of the decision that I was making, and never really felt like I was making a "decision" at all. So I appreciate Laron's kudos, but am not certain that I deserve them.

Whether I understood the situation or not, its logic inexorably went to work on me. After getting my Ph.D., I fought the good fight, working as a lecturer and trying to land permanent work for ten solid years. But eventually it became clear that the only use the academic world had for me was as cheap disposable labor. I am now finishing up my first year in public policy school, with the hope of landing work in a completely different field. But I still think I wrote a good book, and still appreciate reviews like Larson's. 

liberal smugness and the "Bowling Green Massacre"

I was featured in the most recent episode of David Sehat's podcast Mindpop. The subject of our conversation was ostensibly "Has identity politics wrecked liberalism?" But in passing I did make another point: that liberals are frequently every bit as pompous, irritating and smug as the conservative caricatures make them out to be. This is not a new position for me. But it's one that has taken up more and more of my mental space since the Trump election had laid bare the liberal disinterest in explaining or justifying left-of-center ideas to anyone who doesn't already share them.

A case in point is this weekend's reaction to Kellyanne Conway's reference to the "Bowling Green Massacre," an event that never actually occurred. In response to this gaffe, liberals have unleashed a flood of smug self-congratulatory jokes on the subject. One can find a candlelight vigil for the victims of this nonexistent tragedy, a Facebook survivor check-in page, a fake folk song memorializing the event and a whole host of oh-so-clever tweets. Personally, I would prefer that liberals put their energy into crafting messages that could make their message clearer and more convincing so that they might resonate with the broad swaths of the country. But that apparently would not scratch the right itch.

This is your fault. Source: salon.com

This is your fault. Source: salon.com

Liberals have two primary modes of communication: outraged moralistic accusations and funny, sarcastic putdowns. Both do little more than preach to the choir. Neither will ever convince anyone to listen to a new point of view or to change his/her mind about a political issue. We've been on this road for a long time and it's only gotten us to a place that we don't particularly like. It's time to get off of it.

"When they go low," Michelle Obama said, "we go high." I'm not seeing it. Do better.

liberalism and identity politics

On Friday Donald Trump became the 45th president of the United States. Though it has been two months since the election in which he defeated sure-thing Democratic nominee Hillary Clinton, left-of-center Americans have had a hard time accommodating themselves to the new reality. Liberals, progressives and Democrats have been engaged in trying to explain Clinton's unprecedented failure. What this process of trying to understand the situation looks like, for the most part, is the various factions with the coalition pointing fingers at one another. The typical subject of this debate, such as it is, are two phenomena which are related but, in my view, often confused: national electoral strategy and the intrinsic value of various political and philosophical commitments. Untangling these two strands would go a long way toward clarifying what liberalism means in this Trumpian moment.

[more after the jump]

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bread and circuses

new University of Texas football coach Tom Herman. Source: hookem.com

new University of Texas football coach Tom Herman. Source: hookem.com

People often say that college football is "a multi-million dollar industry." I don't pay much attention to the sport, so I only understand that statement as a truism or an abstraction. But this piece gave me a really good sense of how that really works and what it really means. It is on a blog, published by the Austin American-Statesman, related to University of Texas (UT) football. (Full disclosure: I've written a couple of book reviews for the paper. It was over ten years ago and the one person who might, in the unlikeliest of circumstances, even remember me is no longer there.) The article concerns Tom Herman, the new Texas football coach and its focus is on his assessment of the UT facilities. In Herman's view, they are not up to par. It seems the athletic department needs to spend more money in order to keep up with the college football Joneses. "UT is behind," in the coach's assessment, "but not by much. 'Nothing that a multi-million dollar facelift can't fix.' Herman said."

Though Herman needs more, I'm amazed just by what is already there. The coach already has, for instance, a chief of staff, just like the one that the President of the United States has to run the White House. But it is not enough. The football team, he believes, lacks its own full-time nutritionist and needs new graphics in the hallways. Anyplace he can spend money, it appears, he will. The whole thing strikes me as rather decadent. If the players aren't already drinking their Gatorade out of gold-plated goblets, Tom Herman will be making sure that they are soon.

in memoriam: Joyce Appleby

It was recently reported that Joyce Appleby died a little over a week ago. Appleby was a well-respected historian of English and American history. Like anyone who works on US political economy, I was impressed with and influenced by her work. But I truly appreciate her for the role that she played in getting my book published.

[more after the jump]

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