[NOTE: I thought this post from 2013 could bear repeating, with some edits and additions to bring it up to date.]
I’ve written before about Allan Bloom’s masterful The Closing of the American Mind, published in 1987, here and here.
And I probably will again. It is so richly loaded with thought that almost every sentence might cause the reader to pause and reflect. Plus, it’s extremely readable. Bloom has done something extraordinarily difficult, which is to write a serious work about education, politics, history, and philosophy in a very lively style.
Apparently, that’s the kind of guy he was.
I was blown away at the outset by the first few paragraphs of his introduction, entitled “Our Virtue.” And so I’m going to reproduce some of it verbatim, just for you, to whet your appetite for the book itself. Remember as you read this that it was written no later than 1987, and probably a bit earlier:
There is one thing a professor can be absolutely certain of: almost every student entering the university believes, or says he believes, that truth is relative…Some are religious, some atheists; some are to the Left, some to the Right; some intend to be scientists, some humanists or professionals or businessmen; some are poor, some rich. They are unified only in their relativism and in their allegiance to equality. And the two are related in a moral intention. The relativity of truth is not a theoretical insight but a moral postulate, the condition of a free society, or so they see it. They have all been equipped with this framework early on, and it is the modern replacement for the inalienable natural rights that used to be the traditional American grounds for a free society…The danger they have been taught to fear from absolutism is not error but intolerance. Relativism is necessary to openness, and this is the virtue, the only virtue, which all primary education for more than fifty years has dedicated itself to inculcating. Openness—and the relativism that makes it the only plausible stance in the face of various claims to truth and various ways of life and kinds of human beings—is the great insight of our times…
The students, of course, cannot defend their opinion. It is something with which they have been indoctrinated…
Every educational system has a moral goal that it tries to attain and that informs its curriculum. It wants to produce a certain kind of human being…In some nations the goal was the pious person, in others the warlike, in others the industrious…Aristocracies want gentlemen, oligarchies men who respect and pursue money, and democracies lovers of equality. Democratic education, whether it admits it or not, wants and needs to produce men and women who have the tastes, knowledge, and character supportive of a democratic regime. Over the history of our republic, there have obviously been changes of opinion as to what kind of man is best for our regime. We began with the model of the rational and industrious man, who was honest, respected the laws, and was dedicated to the family (his own family—what has in its decay been dubbed the nuclear family). Above all he was to know the rights doctrine; the Constitution, which embodied it; and American history, which presented and celebrated the founding of a nation “conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.”…
But openness…eventually won out over natural rights, partly through a theoretical critique, partly because of a political rebellion against nature’s last constraints. Civic education turned away from concentrating on the Founding to concentrating on openness based on history and social science. There was even a general tendency to debunk the Founding, to prove the beginnings were flawed in order to license a greater openness to the new…
Liberalism without natural rights, the kind that we knew from John Stuart Mill and John Dewey, taught us that the only danger confronting us is being closed to the emergent, the new, the manifestations of progress. No attention had to be paid to the fundamental principles or the moral virtues that inclined men to live according to them…
Note how long ago all of this had already hit its stride. As the book goes on, some of the best passages involve Bloom’s description of the faculty’s craven abdication during the student uprisings of the 1960s, when he was one of those who tried (in vain, as it turned out) to hold his finger in the dike of the best traditions of Western Civilization.
In 2017 I would add that little has changed except these ideas have become even more widespread, if anything, and many of the students have become more strident, angry, confrontational, and accusative. Yesterday at Legal Insurrection, Professor Jacobson quoted a tweet by Eric Weinstein (the brother of -much-in-the-news Evergreen professor Bret Weinstein), that succinctly summarizes where we have arrived at this point:
Intersectional Shakedown, n.: Protection racket where underrepresented groups sell protection from bigotry charges for apologies/concessions.
The Intersectional Shakedown racket is rampant not just in the university but in public life as a whole. If all the “ists” are defined as nearly the worst accusations ever—“racist,” “sexist,” “rape apologist” and the like—people will do almost anything to avoid being called any version of intolerant. And to avoid this, they will bend over backwards to give the potential accusers want they want. Special considerations of many sorts, including campus police standing down while they harrass others and/or block traffic, failure to be disciplined or charged even when violence occurs, being given pride of place at a graduation—all of this is in the form of a concession in order to avoid being painted with the vile brush of intolerance. And if all these concessions fail, and a person ends up being the target of such an accusation, then there’s always the apology.
Professor Jacobson adds:
The Intersectionality Shakedown method is particularly effective because it targets the people who are not what they are accused of being: Eric Weinstein is not a racist, and David Collum is not a rape apologist or any of the other things he was accused of being. So they actually are damaged by and afraid of the accusations, whereas people who actually were those things likely would not care.
In these circumstances, the silence of peers helps the aggressors.
“The silence of peers” is unsurprising. If one studies history—or lives for a while in the real world of various workplaces especially including academia—one becomes impressed by how relatively rare moral courage is. It has been my personal experience in academia, on issues much smaller and much less risky that the present ones, in situations where I stood up to speak against what I considered some sort of wrong action, that I was usually completely alone. Afterwards, people would often come up to me privately and say they agreed with me, and when I asked why they hadn’t stood and spoken publicly to support me, they would answer that they were afraid for their jobs or their grades. That’s how I learned that most people don’t want to draw even a minor amount of attention to themselves when any possibility of retaliation exists. How much worse it must be when the dangers and the exposure are greater.

