Huxley. From Devil's Disciple to Evolution's High Priest by Adrian Desmond.

Huxley: From Devil’s Disciple to Evolution’s High Priest focuses on the life of a tireless, effective advocate for evolution and science. This is an impressively well-researched, highly informative tome. Its 32 page bibliography and 1581 endnotes testify to the author’s assiduous research and command of the details. Adrian Desmond does an admirably thorough job of presenting the story of T.H. Huxley’s private life and public contributions.

This representation of a life in science demonstrates the contributions of Huxley, who is overshadowed by his friend Charles Darwin in the modern public mind. But without the pugnacious activism of T.H. Huxley, there would have been a greater delay in recognition for the brilliant but meek Darwin and his Natural Selection. We would not be as far along as we are now in our understanding of evolution. While this is the chief contribution for which Huxley is known, there is so much more for which he deserves recognition.

Desmond presents Huxley’s life as one of constant hard work and achievement. In addition to lecturing and teaching, this educator chaired the Royal Society, the British Association for the Advancement of Science, the Metaphysics Society and many committees too numerous to mention. His work on the London School Board resulted in the inclusion of science education in the public schools. In Higher Education, he was the driving force behind the creation of South Kensington College, a pioneering institution of science during a time when gentlemanly liberal arts were still the norm. Additionally, he published throughout his life, adding to our knowledge in significant ways. Huxley is widely credited as the discoverer of the bird-dinosaur evolutionary link.

This scientist also expanded our thinking philosophically.  Employing the root of the Greek “gnosis” (to know) he created the word “agnostic” (one who does not or cannot know) and was the catalyst for this secular philosophy. With his emphasis on “the scientific method and its sensual limitations,” Huxley determined that one could neither prove nor disprove God (Desmond, p. 374). While this approach lacks the satisfying certainty of both Theism and Atheism, it was an idea made for a historical moment, providing an exceptional foil against the intrusions of state sponsored Anglicanism on science.

While Desmond presents Huxley as an industrious achiever, this book is in no way a hagiography. Privately, the evolutionist innovator is characterized as prone to “volcanic moods” and “depressive” with periodic “breakdowns” from both overwork and his emotional demons (Desmond, pp. 84 & 537). Politically, the author is not afraid to show his subjects regressive attitudes. Huxley’s support of violent British imperialism is extreme enough to shock his family. He refers to Afghan tribes defending their land as “blood-thirsty thieves” and approves of England’s “civilizing influence” in South Africa even if it meant using a “heavy hand” (Desmond, p. 493).

Even regarding Huxley’s stellar professional life, the biographer can be rightfully critical. When Huxley fails in a speech, the Desmond explains why (Desmond, p. 478). When Huxley fails to understand Natural Selection even after Darwin works on him, Desmond elucidates how he is being dense (Desmond, p. 223). Though Huxley was an advocate for women’s education, he believed that their “natural limitations” would prevent them from competing with men for science positions (Desmond, p. 371). The career scientist’s record is not presented without blemishes.

Another consistent theme throughout the work is Great Britain’s transformation from a society of privileged gentlemen directing science, business and politics, to a meritocracy where industrious working-class and middle-class men could make a name for themselves. This new ethos is particularly evident in science which, up until this time, was the past time of wealthy aristocrats. “In came the academics and empire builders, secular sons with their B.Sc.s…out went the marginalized clergymen” and elites (Desmond, p. 424).

Despite the book’s many merits, there is no nice way to say this and still be accurate: the writing is awful. Desmond opens with excessive melodrama:

“The lanky 15 year-old sidled down fetid alleyways, past gin palaces and dance halls. Sailors hung out of windows, the gaiety of their boozy whores belying the squalor around them. The boy’s predatory looks and patched clothes seemed in keeping. But his black eyes betrayed a horror at the sights: ten crammed into a room, babies diseased from erupting cesspits, the uncoffined dead gnawed by rats” (Desmond, p. 3).

When the style is not being melodramatic, it is pompous and excessively ornamental: “Nature was no capricious dame to be appeased by the gods” (Desmond, p. 85). Rarely are statements made simply. Where Huxley is consulting with factory bosses and engineers, Desmond confuses the message that hard-working professionals were replacing privileged aristocrats: Using grandiloquent imagery, he writes “Huxley was in his muddy boots, moving the centre of the world, making the dead Oxbridge outer planets revolve round the solar furnace of the Black Country” (Desmond, p. 513). A more Hemingway-esque pen could have easily trimmed at least 100 pages from the biography by eliminating overblown decoration.

Though the writing is atrocious, no literary criticism can demean the quality of the information. Desmond has researched well. There are probably other books on Huxley that waste less time with bombast. However, one would be hard-pressed to find a study as thorough. Readers will have to decide for themselves how much pretentious writing they can tolerate.

Desmond, Adrian. Huxley. From Devil’s Disciple to Evolution’s High Priest. Reading, Mass : Addison-Wesley, 1997.

Empire by Niall Ferguson.

In our postcolonial age, there is a virtual consensus that imperialism and colonialism were harmful for those conquered. Niall Ferguson has attempted an ambitious undertaking. Empire endeavors to show that aggression towards less developed nations was harmful; but tempers the story with information discussing the benefits bestowed by an advanced industrialized nation. Admittedly, these benefits pale in comparison to the abuses. But they are part of the history nonetheless and a full examination of this period requires their inclusion.

The author’s intended audience is not just fellow citizens of the UK. His introduction underlines that current US power and influence is analogous to that of 19^th Century Britain. Throughout the book, US citizens can hear echoes of the past in our current dilemmas. For example, after the massacres of British civilians during the first Indian Mutiny, Charles Spurgeon emphatically sermonizes “My friends, what crimes have they committed?” (Ferguson, p. 126). One cannot read this without remembering so many US Citizens exclaiming “Why do they hate us?” after the terrorist attacks of 9/11/2001. Nineteenth Century British subjects were no more knowledgeable concerning the brutal imperialism of their nation than US citizens are today.

This historian exhibits a number of episodes where brutality was perpetrated upon the empire’s victims. However, he also shows bright glints of humanity within the dark clouds of imperialism rolling across conquered lands. This is mostly accomplished in two chief ways. First is the presentation of humane individuals: From Livingstone’s attempt to provide medical care among the Empire’s victims, to Macaulay’s crusade against the slave trade, to Durham’s fair parliamentary report which resulted in Canadian self-rule, Ferguson tells numerous stories of personal compassion and integrity. Unfortunately, this tact strikes one as a bit weak. These were, after all, individual acts of kindness occurring alongside the empire-wide business of exploitation. Setting these examples next to the Empires destructive legacy, says “Yes, the Empire pillaged many civilizations, but here’s a nice guy who felt bad about it.”

The second way Ferguson exhibits the Empire’s brighter side is by revealing the gifts showered upon underdeveloped nations by an advanced and enlightened civilization. The British introduced efficient bureaucracy, industrial technology, advanced medicine, scientific method and improved infrastructure. Unfortunately, these qualities are never put into perspective against the much larger story of slavery, racism, domination, exploitation and military slaughter. Additionally, a common person living within a domain of the Empire rarely benefited from these gifts.

It would be an unjust oversimplification to label Empire  a conservative glance at the glory days of Great Britain. Ferguson is much too complex and perceptive in his approach to his subject. Rather, he focuses more upon the evolution and management of Britain’s empire and less (without ignoring) on the negative impact of conquest. A postcolonial historian from Africa might not take such an approach to a book on the British Empire. Some current historians from conquering nations exhibit greater skill in examining their country’s imperialist destruction. Compare Ferguson’s approach to James Bradley’s in The Imperial Cruise: Bradley, who is also from an imperialist nation, begins by describing Theodore Roosevelt’s Aryan philosophy, then applies this racist perspective to the damaging actions taken during his presidency.

Empire’s “Conclusion” is a bewildering departure from the rest of the book. Here, Ferguson abandons the restrained historical analysis that had thus far served the reader. In its place is a breathtakingly obtuse, Western-centric set of political pronouncements: 1) The Empire served its unwilling subjects by giving them consistent government. 2) We need an empire to police rogue states and terrorists. 3) The attack of “9/11” might not have occurred if there had been an empire. 4) The US should accept the mantle of empire. In brief counterpoint: 1) The unwilling subjects chose to trade servitude under a consistent  government for self-determination. 2) Policing rogue states and terrorists is now more difficult since they employ fourth-generation warfare. They don’t meet armies head-on; they attack clandestinely. 3) The “9/11” attacks were a direct result of imperialism. The terrorists were middle-class Saudis who resented the imposition of western culture and economic influence. These Saudis attracted the poor and angry from former British and French protectorates who also resented the West. 4) Regarding Ferguson’s attempt to coronate the next World Emperor, US citizens of all political stripes, (for reasons ranging from morality to money) respectfully decline.

Empire is valuable for its examination of the workings and evolution of this 19^th Century behemoth. It is a finely written, well-researched, exciting story. Ferguson has an excellent eye for illustrative vignettes and humor. Describing Lord Kitchener’s marksmanship, the author mentions that the aristocrat had named his three hunting dogs “Bang, Miss and Damn” (Ferguson, p. 224). More attention to the subjugated would have created a better balance. But this book has a great deal to recommend it.

Ferguson, Niall. Empire. New York: Basic Books, 2004.

For reviews on more books concerning British History, see:
http://greatnonfictionbooks.blogspot.com/2013/02/a-peoples-history-of-london-by-german.html
which is a politically progressive history of London.
and
http://greatnonfictionbooks.blogspot.com/2014/09/eminent-victorians-by-lytton-strachey.html
which is a classic set of biographies on British Victorians.

The Houses of History by Anna Green and Kathleen Troupe.

The Houses of History is an epistemological examination of the 12 major theoretical perspectives that have informed historical study over the last century. The twelve schools are: Empiricism, Marxism, Psychohistory, Annales, Historical Sociology, Quantitative History, Anthropological/Ethnohistory, Narrative History, Oral History, Feminist/Gender History, Postcolonial and Poststructuralist.

Each of the twelve gets a two-part chapter. Part One is composed of a thorough explanation that is as immensely informative and desert dry as one would expect. Part Two presents a writing sample or chapter by an exemplary proponent of the school discussed.

The authors are both college professors in New Zealand. Indeed, this book is from an introductory History and Theory course they co-teach at the University of Waikato. As a result, Professors Green and Troup are used to explaining the intricacies of historical theory to undergraduates. Neither writer is forceful in putting-forth a favorite theory, or damning a foolish notion. However in the Part One descriptions of their chapters, the authors will present conflicting views between and within the schools. This presentation permits the reader to draw her own conclusions regarding the effectiveness of varying perspectives.

In their presentation, the professors sometimes fail to illustrate newly introduced terms and ideas with examples. For example, when they discuss how, in the 1940s “A.R. Radcliffe-Brown combined functionalism with a structural perspective,” a morsel of his writing, illustrating what this looked like would have been useful (Green & Troupe, p. 173). This is less a problem in a classroom using the text, where a student can raise her hand and ask for an example or a fuller explanation. But a little too much abstraction is perhaps a forgivable occupational hazard with theorists.

Another area of concern is some anti-intellectual, political correctness in the work. New Zealand, like the US, has a tragic history of genocide and oppression towards pre-colonial native populations. As a result, there is a tendency in academia to bend-over backward, showing how open-minded we are regarding native views, even at the expense of accuracy. In the “Postcolonial Perspectives” chapter, the Part Two writing sample chosen is mythical, racist and lacking citation or confirmation. Henrietta Whiteman, discussing her great-grandmother White Buffalo Woman, is comparable to promoting The Bible as history. Religious beliefs, for example “Cheyennes keep this earth alive through their ceremonies” are presented with reverence and without examination (Green & Troupe, p. 289). Hatred towards whites is expressed first, in the judgment that their tight clothes make them “narrowly exclusive, insular and illiberal.” The discussion degenerates from there to a description of the repugnant “strange odor” of whites described as a “murderer’s stench” (Green & Troupe, p. 290). I am reminded of Thomas Jefferson’s “Notes on the State of Virginia” where he talks about the “disagreeable odor” of his slaves. Whiteman is similarly bigoted. There is a great variety of Postcolonial history-writing that is analytical, scholarly and from the perspective of the invaded peoples. A better choice could have been made. But this is just one writing sample of a single “Part Two.”

On the whole, this is a valuable text for history lovers. It is useful to be able to look at an historian’s writing and determine her influences. Being able to critically examine the critical examiner will improve one’s insight. While dry and occasionally arcane, The Houses of History contributes to our understanding of our past. No greater compliment can be extended to a history book.

Green, Anna & Troup, Kathleen. The Houses of History. New York: New York University Press, 1999.

Genocide. A Comprehensive Introduction by Adam Jones.

Adam Jones has written a condensed, informative study of Genocide. In the space of 400 pages, he has presented the major mass killings since 1900, and elucidated the primary issues facing genocide politics, scholarship and activism. His study begins by discussing the first known genocides, moves on to philosophical and legal definitions of the term, and ends with a chapter on the effects of imperialism, war and revolution. Jones does not shy away from controversial topics that might make religious people uncomfortable. As a scholar of intellectual honesty, dedicated to preventing genocide, he discusses Old Testament scripture where God repeatedly commands his followers to murder all of the residents in a particular locale. Borrowing from sociologist Helen Fein, he refers to God’s motivational speaking as the “religious tradition of contempt and collective defamation” (Jones, p. 4).

The next part starts with pre-20^th Century genocides of indigenous peoples around the world. This is followed by a series of chapters on the more recent genocides of the 20^th and 21^st Century with which we are all so sadly familiar. These chapters necessarily lack the comprehensive qualities of a book that focuses on a specific incident. But they will provide the reader with a helpful overview, which is the purpose of an introductory work. Each instance of genocide is followed by a useful bibliography of the major texts on each topic, so that a reader may delve more deeply based on her or his preference.

There is some superfluous political correctness, deflecting from the main point of the book, in the form of oversensitivity. Yes, “The Redskins” is a racist name for a football team (Jones, p. 82). There would be loud objections if the team were called “The Dirty Jews.” But in the context of a discussion of Native American genocide, such language corrections are trivial by comparison and detract from the subject. There are some claims along these lines that are unexamined and exaggerated.  The suggestion, that US auto companies name their gas-guzzling products “Winnebago” and “Cherokee” to negatively associate Native Americans with technologies that damage the environment, is an over-think. Car companies also name their autos “Gremlin” and “Impala;” which does not imply an attempt to blame African wildlife or tiny mythical beings for Co2 emissions.

A third and important section of the book focuses on understanding the social, psychological and political factors, which result in genocide. There is some excellent information here condensing the ideas of various thoughtful professionals. While these experts seek to find and understand the commonalities among mass killings, they are quick to point out that each occurrence has its individual character. This is a good time to caution the reader that, no matter how much you have delved into the study of genocide, or how well-armored your sensibilities, you still run into information that will flatten you. The unique nature of each genocide is what allows even the most experienced individuals to be struck by new images and characteristics.

The last section of the book covers post-genocidal incident issues of remembering and justice. These are full of useful information. This section ends with the weakest chapter in the book, “Strategies of Intervention and Prevention.” Not only does it contain all of the tried and un-true past solutions to prevention, but also it fails to address the evolutionary causes of genocide: we are biological creatures. We clawed our way to the top of the Food Chain through aggression and competition. Our first genocides were on a smaller scale, when our hominid ancestors massacred other groups, or chased them away from hunting grounds and watering holes to perish. Killing “The Other” is in our DNA. Until we include this sober fact in our equations, it will be difficult to innovate effective prevention strategies.

Genocide. A Comprehensive Introduction is a brave early attempt in a poorly understood field. It is, as explained by the author, the first “comprehensive introductory text” (Jones, p. xxii). Therefore it is an historic innovation. Though, like all firsts, it contains flaws and gaps, it is admirably informative. This work permits the reader to establish a fine overview and strong foundation for further study.

Jones, Adam. Genocide. A Comprehensive Introduction. New York: Routledge, 2006.

For review of another book on Genocide, see:
http://greatnonfictionbooks.blogspot.com/2013/04/eichmann-in-jerusalem-report-on.html

At the Extremes of Popular History: The Rise of Rome by Anthony Everitt.

The Rise of Rome is Anthony Everitt’s chronicle of the Empire’s beginnings. It falls firmly within the genre of Popular History. As such, it permits one to examine the difference between Popular History and Academic History. Popular History exists to present the general public with an aspect of the past, in a manner that is both informative and entertaining. It serves a positive purpose in that it introduces people to a topic that they might not otherwise consider if presented with a more ponderous approach. Academic History exists to expand the knowledge of history among students and enthusiasts. Ideally focusing on accuracy and empiricism, it also exists to enlarge the information base of the field. Frequently, this genre provides a forum for a history writer to introduce a new perspective on a topic.

In the preface to his book, Anthony Everitt states “The city’s foundation myths and the events of its early centuries are almost entirely unhistorical, but they were what Romans believed of themselves. They are a rich poetic feast…If this book serves any purpose, it is as a reminder of what we are losing” (Everitt, p. xi). These explanations serve as a rationalization for presenting a story so filled with legend and mythology that accuracy becomes obfuscated. Popular historians frequently use the devices of myths and legends in concise form to add color to a narrative. But the best intention in that case is to draw-in a less serious public in order to teach them something. (Okay, some popular historians just want to sell books, just like some academic historians just want to prove how smart they are, but let us presume noble goals unless proven otherwise.) “What Romans believed of themselves” is a small piece of the story that contributes to the whole of what happened. 

Inauspiciously, Everitt opens with a section entitled “Legend,” and the sentence “The origin of Rome can be traced back to a giant wooden horse” (Everitt, p. 3). The origin of Rome most certainly cannot be traced back to Troy. It takes him several chapters to begin discussing the actual origins of Rome. This is a tactic that the author employs throughout the book: During Tarquin’s challenge to the Republic, Everitt states “Three stories are told about this desperate period…they are (surely) fictions” (Everitt, p. 83). But since Everitt cannot resist coloring-in the black and white, he spends the rest of the chapter retelling these fictions. The author frequently presents alleged historic scenes he personally disbelieves, like the post-Punic War meeting between Scipio and Hannibal, which he demonstrates Scipio could not have attended (Everitt, p. 279). In homage to the “rich poetic feast” of myths, the actual incidents are lost in a fog of words.

Another poetic device used frequently, is to make mythical figures a living part of the portions where the author is relating facts. Everitt will begin a sentence with “Since the days of Romulus,” a figure who probably did not exist (Everitt, p. 118). Or, he will end a description of a ritual to the goddess Juno with “it was obvious to all, including the Queen of Heaven” (Everitt, p. 270). Yes, I am being literal-minded here, but this colorized version is an attempt to bind excessive myths to events in order to make the history more jazzy. Mixing fact with fiction creates confusion.

In addition to the believed fiction of the Romans, Everitt will quote actual fiction from novels. To describe Carthage, he quotes extensively from Gustave Flaubert’s tale Salammbo…twice (Everitt, pp. 213 & 238). At this point, The Rise of Rome could not be more comically unhistorical if Everitt had written it as a series of limericks. Compare this to other popular histories like Richard Miles’s Carthage Must Be Destroyed. Despite the admittedly sensationalist title, (which is a quote from Cato), this book relies on modern archeological evidence to flesh-out the city. Popular History does not have to sacrifice candor to be interesting.

Everitt’s flair for drama and addiction to legend make one suspect the veracity of episodes presented as fact. Throughout the pre-war negotiations between Flamininus of Rome and Phillip of Macedon, I found myself asking “how much of this version is theatrical?” Other stories are obviously false, like the story of Archimedes being murdered during the sack of Syracuse because he “was absorbed by a diagram he had drawn in the sand and was oblivious to the rape and pillage going on around him” (Everitt, p. 263). Are we honestly expected to believe that Archimedes didn’t notice the explosive destruction of his city and the screams of its residents? Once an historian’s audience begins to doubt their truthfulness, there is little he or she can teach.

This is unfortunate, because Everitt is knowledgeable. He draws on a variety of resources and has a writing style that keeps one engaged. There is much in The Rise of Rome that is factually accurate. But it is shrouded among the myths and legends with which the author insists on dazzling his audience.

Everitt, Anthony. The Rise of Rome. New York: Random House, 2012.

Free Comrades. Anarchism and Homosexuality in the United States 1895-1917 by Terence Kissack.

Free Comrades is Terence Kissack’s well-documented history of pre-World War I, anarchist advocacy for lesbians and gays in the US. Until 1924, when the Society for Human Rights was formed in Chicago, there was no other organized effort to combat their oppression. There are some linguistic peculiarities to address: Kissack employs terms and concepts that were used by these early advocates. Archaic words like "homogenic," "invert" and "manly love," appear in place of "gay," "lesbian" and "bi-sexual.” Transgender Americans, a group not publicly conceptualized during the books focus period, are not covered. I’m sure that there are individuals within the LGBT community whom these exclusions and word usages will rub the wrong way. But putting the web of our current views and vernacular aside for a moment, most modern LGBT supporters are sophisticated enough to recognize that the movement in its infancy was not as advanced in as we are in the 21^st Century. The intent of pre-WWI activists can still be appreciated for what was, in the late 18^th Century, radically open-minded and supportive.

By 1895, Free-Love Anarchists, or Sex Radicals, had subdued the voices of prejudice within their own community enough to focus on public sphere activism in a significant way. Philosophically, anarchists opposed government interference in people’s private lives, and favored personal freedom. This made them natural allies to men and women facing state and individual oppression based on sexual difference from accepted norms. Anarchist support consisted mostly of lecturing, writing and networking with Sex Radicals in Europe. Unlike the US, Europe contained a number of sex-positive thinkers, reformers and organizations, that were not anarchist. There were no US efforts to reform “anti-sodomy” laws, since revolution was the anarchist answer to oppression.

Anarchist advocacy for lesbian/gay freedom, which they couched in terms of “the right to complete liberty of action,” became a major cause during and after the trial of Oscar Wilde. The playwright’s anarchist and socialist sympathies helped to garner support from the left.  But his conviction for private sexual activity which harmed no one, united anarchists and advocates of sexual freedom on both sides of the Atlantic. Regardless of how individuals may have felt about Wilde’s sexuality, this flagrant abuse of state power made lesbian/gay rights a permanent part of the “individual freedoms” discussion until government campaigns destroyed anarchist organizational infrastructure during the First World War.

Kissack’s chronology depicts a number of radicals and publications. Highlighted among the plethora of verbiage they produced are Emma Goldman’s enlightened speeches, Alexander Berkman’s Prison Memoirs of an Anarchist, and lesbian/gay-positive periodicals like the eponymous “Free Comrades.” Anarchist writers, most notably Leonard Abbott, J.W. Lloyd and Benjamin Tucker, kept the national conversation going. After the post-WWI government-led purges, a quieter, more community-building attitude settled-in among both anarchist and LGBT circles.

A significant flaw of Free Comrades is its failure to address anarchist violence during the same period that lesbian/gay advocacy was occurring. Defenders might argue that this book concerns Free Love Anarchists addressing the private sphere; not public sphere anarchists responding to state repression. But one of Kissack’s main points is that the State was punishing private, harmless behavior, which was a public sphere issue that drew-in anti-State anarchists. One might argue that this is a book about anarchist ideas, not actions. But the author himself repeatedly mentions various acts of violence without qualifications. Among the more salient acts of violence mentioned are Berkman’s attempted assassination of Henry Clay Fricke (Kissack, p. 101), the Preparedness Day Bombing for which Tom Mooney was framed (Kissack, p. 69), and the post-WWI “wave of bombings including a spectacular explosion on Wall Street [which] seemed to usher in a radical assault” (Kissack, p. 155). One could say that apologetics are not the purpose of this book. However, when anarchist J.W. Lloyd uses the word “savage” to describe Native Americans, the author is quick to note that “’savage’ has a jarring quality for contemporary readers” but “Lloyd used it in an ironic sense” (Kissack, p. 64). The author will even condemn socially conservative anarchists, as he does with Johann Most when he rightfully characterizes him as a misogynist (Kissack, p. 26). No such speedy prowess is forthcoming from Kissack’s pen regarding anarchist violence. Perhaps brutality is too indefensible for modern anarchists. But violence in Anarchist History is as difficult to avoid as ice in the Arctic Circle. At some point we need to discuss the melting glacier in the room. As much as I love Emma Goldman’s uncontained spirit, inspiring speeches and pro-liberation sexual politics, one cannot fully understand her without considering her verbose defenses of political assassinations. Inexplicably, Kissack avoids the conversation. I empathize with the notion that there was a war perpetrated by the wealthy against the poor. The legal assassination of Joe Hill, the use of Pinkerton Detectives as brutal strike-breakers, the attempts to criminalize unions, all illustrate efforts by the powerful to subjugate workers. However, responding with violence only caused suffering, created fear, expanded the class war, gave negative press to the movement and compounded the ethical wrongs. This view is shared by the current Anarcho-Pacifist wing of the movement who see violence as clouding their message.

The concluding chapter of Free Comrades opens with a late 1960s college course entitled “Contemporary Ideologies.” As a demonstration of anarchism’s improved status at that time, Kissack presents a class vote where 90 of the 160 students define themselves as anarchists (Kissack, p. 181). This is undeniably a better opinion of anarchism than a post-WWI classroom would have voiced. But how many of the 90 saw themselves as anarchists a decade after graduation? In my Hampshire College “State and Society” class of 1980, anarchist professor Lester Mazor stated that ten years from “now” most of the students present would have mainstream jobs, privileged lives and little or no dedication to social change. So how much was this 1960s wave of anarchism a fashion? Ask the baby boomers today how many of them are still anarchists.

The rest of the conclusion is fairly spot-on. Focusing on the legacy of pre-WWI anarchists, Kissack states that LGBT historians credit these early advocates for their work. But these accounts appear in books dedicated to an independent LGBT movement. The author makes this separation between movements and ideologies even more clear: “With few exceptions, today’s gay and lesbian activists seek inclusion within the boundaries of American culture, rather than the fundamental restructuring of that culture. They may find inspiration in the spirit of freedom expressed by the anarchists, but they are not revolutionaries” (Kissack, p. 186).

Nonetheless, anarchist's brave contribution to the freedom of today’s LGBT community deserves praise. In his summation of their efforts, Kissack is entirely right and deserves the last word of this review:

“They were nearly alone in their defense of people’s right to express their erotic feelings…When Oscar Wilde was thrown in prison…the anarchists rose to his defense, while others cheered his fall…Almost alone among their contemporaries, the anarchist sex radicals addressed the issue of homosexuality within the context of their larger political goals…the work of the anarchist sex radicals was unique and valuable. It is time we acknowledge and honor their accomplishments” (Kissack, p. 188).

Kissack, Terence. Free Comrades: Anarchism and Homosexuality in the United States, 1895-1917. Oakland: AK Press, 2008.

For review of a book on gay male culture in New York from 1890 to 1940, see:
http://greatnonfictionbooks.blogspot.com/2014/12/gay-new-york-gender-urban-culture-and.html

For review of another politically radical history, see:
http://greatnonfictionbooks.blogspot.com/2013/02/a-peoples-history-of-london-by-german.html

For a discussion encompassing "Marxist History vs Marxist Politics," see:
http://greatnonfictionbooks.blogspot.com/2013/06/commentary-marxist-history-vs-marxist.html

The Confessions of Saint Augustine. The Influence of Self-Loathing.

Augustine of Hippo lived during a time of exceptional upheaval. It was the beginning of the Dark Ages, when the christianized Roman Empire was crumbling. His Confessions was written between 397 and 398 AD, 13 years prior to the sack of the capitol by the Visigoths. Perhaps this historical situation is responsible for the fervid tone of his philosophy, although truthfully, there are zealots in every age.

Among rational, educated people, it is easy to explain this early Christian philosopher as a relic of a darkly superstitious and insecure time. We can understand his cultural influences, and accept his limitations with the same charity that we understand Aristotle’s theory of Spontaneous Generation. But unlike Spontaneous Generation, Augustine’s ideas are taken seriously today. Many theologians see him as the seminal Christian Philosopher.  Many Catholic and non-Catholic lay people rapturize his quotes. The Dictionary of Scientific Biography includes him in what can be magnanimously described as an attempt to be open-minded. My copy of The Confessions gushes from its cover that this is “The greatest spiritual autobiography of all time.”

Unfortunately, Augustine comes with the emotional baggage of a damaged girlfriend who cuts. He is full of loathing and abuse towards himself. He calls himself “dust and ashes” (Augustine, p. 46). He says things like “I stank in [God’s] eyes” (Augustine, p. 65). With Flagellant masochism, Augustine describes his sin as if he is “bound about with painful chains of iron…scourged by burning rods of jealousy” (Augustine, p. 77). In response to the natural desires of adolescence, he says “clouds arose from the slimy desires of the flesh” (Augustine, p. 65).  The saint’s descriptions are so graphic, sensual and laced with bondage and discipline, that he makes a fetish of his self-hatred and writhes in an ecstasy of suffering and self-punishment for his humanness.

And what is his solution to the aforementioned sinfulness? More self-torture: God “scourged me with heavy punishments, but nothing in proportion to my faults” (Augustine, p. 80). God “stood me face to face with myself, so that I might see how foul I was, how deformed and defiled, how covered with stains and sores” (Augustine, p. 193). Apparently Augustine’s particular kink requires verbal abuse while he’s being whipped.

Even after a decade in God’s Pleasure Dungeon, and numerous renunciations that would make the most fanatic Ascetic weep, Augustine is still not good enough. He has tossed the woman (and child she bore him) out of his house and become celibate. He has given-up lucrative academic posts to pursue his warped truth. He lives with the scrubbed cleanliness of laundry beaten on rocks. But he needs a final push towards holiness. So what is his method? More self-torture:  “I upbraided myself much more bitterly than ever before. I twisted and turned in my chain” (Augustine, p. 199). God, ever the obliging dominatrix, “redoubled the scourges of fear and shame” (Augustine, p. 200). With this increased, punishing stimulation, Augustine is finally urged to let go in a climax of unity with the Divine.

I wish I could say that Augustine learned to love himself once he’d reached his goal. But this abused child of God was never good enough. He continues his celibacy and avoids physical pleasure. He even goes as far as avoiding pleasing fragrances and shutting-out pleasant melodies in church music (Augustine, p. 261). All senses are potential traps that can haul one back into sin. Concerning the sense of taste, he says “I…come to take food just as I take medicine” (Augustine, p. 258). For the rest of his life, Augustine is vigilant against the joys of the physical world.

It may interest free-thinking people to know what kinds of things are considered sins by this revered figure. In addition to the expected Seven Deadlies and violations of the Ten Commandments, Augustine includes Theater. Contact with The Stage, in Augustine’s colorfully graphic style, results in being “infected with loathsome sores” (Augustine, p. 78). Someone should have told him that the sores only occur if you have sex with the actors. As usual, knowledge is a bad thing, leading to the unfortunate consequences of thinking and questioning for one’s self (always a sin in the face of an authority that benefits from ignorance.) Knowledge leads away from God, “into the depths of apostasy and into the deceitful service of demons” (Augustine, p. 80). Free Will naturally follows: “the free will’s decision is the cause of our doing evil” (Augustine, p. 160). Anything to maintain a flock of sheep.

Paramount among sins is the sin of being human. “See how we wallow in flesh and blood” (Augustine, p. 195). It’s the tired, “spirit good; body bad” duality. Tired but ever profitable for religion. When it comes to creating converts, there is nothing quite as effective as telling people that what comes naturally to them, simply by being who they are is sinful; and that the only way to salvation is through the proffered organization.

Perhaps the most dangerous sin is that of heresy. Dangerous to the health of the heretic of course. In his discussion of the Manichean sect, Augustine states “They themselves are truly evil” (Augustine, p. 197). In another passage about them, he says that they “deserved to be spewed forth by a sickened stomach” (Augustine, p. 159). These are comments the saint makes about a sect that he was a part of for nine years. But he has no compassion for them. Dehumanizing the opposition is an excellent way to permit their persecution and destruction. If they’re characterized as vomit, or evil, killing them is okay. This is the foundation of what is called “The Augustinian Consensus,” a euphemism and philosophical justification for persecution. Augustine’s self-hatred regarding his own sin spilled-over onto humanity. It resulted in a millennium of violent persecutions against any individual or group perceived as unrepentant sinners.

This is the true danger of Augustine’s self-loathing. If it was just a case of this narrow, anti-motivational speaker influencing some horrible, small-minded people to hate their humanness as much as he hated his, I’d say that they were getting their just desserts. Unfortunately, these guilty-feeling busybodies never keep it to themselves. You’ll see them invade funerals for AIDS patients so that they can jeer at the bereaved family, or in the courtroom interfering with the private right of a couple to make end-of-life decisions, or in public schools trying to prevent condom distribution. And this is actually progress from the days when they would kill you for your transgressions (unless you’re an abortion provider, and then it’s game on…Dark Ages-style.) I’m not a psych clinician, but I can see the road that this self-hatred and self-denial leads down. And the dead end to that road is not a healthy place for either that individual or our society.

Augustine. The Confessions of St Augustine. Ryan, John K. (trans.) New York: Doubleday, 1960.