Benjamin A. Railton's Blog, page 18

March 24, 2025: Patriotic Speeches: Patrick Henry

[250 yearsago this past Saturday, Patrick Henry delivered his “Give me liberty orgive me death!” speech to theVirginia Assembly. So this week I’ll AmericanStudy that and four otherpatriotic speeches!]

For theanniversary of Henry’s speech, I wanted to share my three paragraphs on it atthe start of Chapter 1 of OfThee I Sing:

On March 23rd,1775, a 38-year old attorney, planter, and delegate to the Vir[1]giniaHouse of Burgesses named Patrick Henry (1736–1799) rose to give a speech at theSecond Virginia Convention. That convention, held from March 20th–23rdat St. John’s Episcopal Church in Richmond in order to maintain distance fromthe colony’s royal Governor Dunmore and his administration in Williamsburg, wasthe second in a series of meetings of delegates and other civic leaders todebate the question of independence for Virginia and the colonies. Henry hadproposed that the colonists raise a militia that would exist separate from theEnglish army and government, and some of the convention’s more moderateattendees had spoken out against that proposal as too belligerent and likely toincrease the chances of war.

Henry’s speechbecame famous, and a rallying cry for the incipient revolution, due to hisclosing line: “I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give meliberty or give me death!” But what’s particularly striking about the speech isthat Henry frames his revolutionary sentiments through an initial lens not of libertybut of patriotism. He opens by making his disagreement with his fellowdelegates about precisely that topic, his vision of patriotism in response totheirs: “No man thinks more highly than I do of the patriotism, as well asabilities, of the very worthy gentlemen who have just addressed the House. Butdifferent men often see the same subject in different lights; and, therefore, Ihope it will not be thought disrespectful to those gentlemen if, entertainingas I do, opinions of a character very opposite to theirs, I shall speak forthmy sentiments freely, and without reserve.”

Moreover, Henrymakes clear that he sees his responsibility to offer such sentiments as itselfan expression and exemplification of patriotism. “Should I keep back myopinions at such a time, through fear of giving offence,” he admits, “I shouldconsider myself as guilty of treason towards my country.” Given that Virginia(like all the colonies) was still part of England at this time, and Henry thusa subject of King George like every other Virginian, he here reframes theinterconnected concepts of patriotism and treason in a particularly bold andcrucial way. That is, while he goes on to argue that freedom is “the gloriousobject of our contest,” he frames the battle to attain that freedom, “the noblestruggle in which we have been so long engaged” and of which his own speechbecomes a part, not just as an opposition to one nation, but also andespecially as a patriotic embrace of another, new nation.

Next SpeechStudyingtomorrow,

Ben

PS. Whatdo you think? Speeches you’d highlight?

March 22-23, 2025: 21st Century Attacks on Educators

[100 yearsago this month, the Tennessee General Assembly passed the ButlerAct, prohibiting public school teachers from teaching evolution. Sothis week I’ve AmericanStudied that law and the famoustrial it produced, leading up to this weekend post on current attackson educators.]

On what’snew about our spate of anti-education attacks, and what’s not.

In mypost-Valentine’s non-favorites series two years ago, I included this post on“Non-Favorite Trends: Attacking Teachers & Librarians.” Such attacks havesadly not dissipated at all since that time—indeed, there seem to be even moreof them over those subsequent two years—and so I’d ask you to check out thatpost if you would and then come on back with a couple further thoughts.

Welcomeback! I don’t want in any significant way to echo recent voices (most notably avery frustrating Atlantic cover story published after the insurance CEOmurder, to which I will not link here as I think it was as a-historical as anythingI’ve read in a while) who have argued that contemporary America is moreviolent, or at least more accepting of violence, than in the past—I’m withRichard Slotkin when it comes to the foundational presence and role of violencein American history and identity. But I would agree with the author of thisDailyKos post—our frustrating acceptance of right-wing violence, and indeed theendorsement of it by some of our most powerful political figures, is withoutquestion a deepening and terrifying trend in early 2025. No single day betterreflects that trend than January 6th, 2021, but the truth is that institutionslikeschools and libraries have been threatened more consistently than any otherpublic spaces, both in the ostensible context of specific events like drag storytimesand just because, y’know, they have books and larnin’ and whatnot.

Like massshootings and open carry and all sorts of other corollaries to our ever-more-ubiquitousgun culture, these right-wing threats do seem to have increased dramatically inrecent years. But it’s really important to locate them as part of America’slongstanding, if not indeed foundational, legacy of attacks on educators andeducational institutions from right-wing (and generally white supremacist) domesticterrorists. Up here in New England we’ve got one of the most overt suchattacks, the 1835destruction of Canaan, New Hampshire’s groundbreaking, abolitionist andco-educational NoyesAcademy for African Americans. While I wouldn’t disagree with folks whowould want to locate those histories as part of America’s overarching andequally foundational streakof anti-intellectualism, it doesn’t seem to me that anti-intellectualismalone would be enough to motivate people to physically and violently attack institutions—ittakes the all-too-American marriage of anti-intellectualism with white supremacyto really produce this legacy, in which our own moment remains firmly located.

Nextseries starts Monday,

Ben

PS. Whatdo you think?

March 21, 2025: ScopesStudying: “Part Man, Part Monkey”

[100 yearsago this month, the Tennessee General Assembly passed the ButlerAct, prohibiting public school teachers from teaching evolution. Sothis week I’ll AmericanStudy that law and the famoustrial it produced, leading up to a weekend post on current attacks oneducators.]

On threelayers to the monkey-centered content and tone in Bruce Springsteen’sunder-appreciated gem (one of my wife’s favorite Boss songs):

1)     Humorous Intent: I don’t think Bruce haswritten a funnier verse than this song’s first: “They prosecuted some poorsucker in these United States/For teaching that man descended from theapes/They coudla settled that case without a fuss or a fight/If they’d seen mechasin’ you sugar through the jungle last night/They’da called in that jury anda one two three/Said part man, part monkey, definitely.” I have to believe thatBruce, who has a delightful sense of humor in and about his work (and in lifein general), began writing this song with precisely that straightforward thought—thatthis was a really funny premise and twist on relationship songs (he apparentlyfirst wrote and recorded it during the Tunnel of Love sessions, when hewas focused on such subjects). Plus, as my wife would insist I add, “theseUnited States” is one of Bruce’s funnier individual turns of phrase in anysong.

2)     Human Impulses: I can count on one hand theBruce songs that don’t have multiple layers, though, and it’s the way in which eachverse in this song takes us to a new place that makes it as great as it is. Theopening lines of the second verse connect the song’s central image very fullyto Tunnel’s raw, honest, and frequently dark portrayal of marriage: “Wellthe church bell rings from the corner steeple/Man in a monkey suit swears he’lldo no evil/Offers his lover’s prayer but his soul lies/Dark and driftin’ andunsatisfied.” When the song’s speaker then asks the “bartender” what he seesand the bartender responds, “Part man, part monkey, looks like to me,” that repeatedtitular image is no longer just a funny depiction of the quest for sex or love—it’sa reflection of some of the most natural yet most destructive human impulses,the most animal and unattractive parts of ourselves.

3)     The Heart of the Issue: After a very sexybridge, the song’s final verse takes us to a logical but still I would argueunexpected place—back to the Scopes monkey trial, and to the heart of thattrial’s debates. “Well did God make men in a breath of holy fire?/Or did hecrawl on up out of the muck and fire?/The man on the street believes what theBible tells him so/Well you can ask me, mister, because I know/Tell themsoul-sucking preachers to come on down and see/Part man, part monkey, baby that’sme.” By the heart of the issue, I do mean in part questions of religion andevolution, of what we believe about where we come from. But I also andespecially mean the question of whether we believe because of the myths we’retold by traditional “authorities,” or believe based on our own critical perspectiveson and understandings of the world as it is. And I’m with Bruce’s speaker (andClarence Darrow, and Scopes): to believe based on the myths we’re told is, ultimately,soul-sucking.

21stcentury contexts this weekend,

Ben

PS. Whatdo you think?

March 20, 2025: ScopesStudying: Three Plays

[100 yearsago this month, the Tennessee General Assembly passed the ButlerAct, prohibiting public school teachers from teaching evolution. Sothis week I’ll AmericanStudy that law and the famoustrial it produced, leading up to a weekend post on current attacks oneducators.]

How threestage adaptations of the trial reflect the fraught relationship between art andhistory.

1)     Inheritthe Wind (1955): Jerome Lawrence and Robert Edwin Lee’s play, which hasbeen itself adaptedinto multiple films for both screen and TV, is in many ways the mostwell-known representation of the Scopes trial. Which is quite ironic, since intheir “Playwrights’Note” before the text Lawrence and Lee explicitly argue that the play “isnot history,” that “it is not 1925,” and that “the stage directions set thetime as ‘Not long ago.’ It might have been yesterday. It could be tomorrow.” Tomy mind both the play and the 1960 film adaptation are profoundly focused oncontexts and questions from theage of McCarthy, making Inherit very much a counterpart to TheCrucible (1953) and far more interesting as a 1950s text than a portrayalof the 1920s.

2)     Inherit the Truth (1987):As that article traces at length, Daytonplaywright’s Gale Johnson’s 1980s play was overtly and entirely intended asa rebuttal to Inherit the Wind, but not so much in terms of historical inaccuraciesabout the trial per se. Instead, Johnson believed that the prior play had badlymisrepresented both William Jennings Bryan and the town of Dayton, and sought tocorrect those errors with a play that is hugely laudatory toward both the manand the community (or at least its conservative Christians). I haven’t readJohnson’s play so I can’t speak to its specifics, and in any case it’s importantto note that her goals are no more (or less) problematic than those of anyplaywright. But I’d say her use of the word “Truth” in her title is deeply problematic,and indeed extends Bryan’s embrace of mythic patriotism about which I wrote inyesterday’s post.

3)     The GreatTennessee Monkey Trial (1993): Whatever its flaws, though, Johnson’splay seems to have had at least one important positive effect: it helpedencourage playwright PeterGoodchild to write a play based far more explicitly on the trial’stranscripts and histories than either of the Inherits had been. Inawarding Goodchild’s play its Earphones Award, Audiofile magazine noted that, “Because thereare no recordings of the actual trial, this production is certainly the nextbest thing.” I hear that, and using transcripts is definitely a way to guaranteea significant degree of historical accuracy. But at the same time, any actorwho performs Goodchild’s roles is an actor who’s performing, not (for example)Bryan or Darrow themselves. So the relationship of art and history remains atleast a bit complicated here, if certainly distinct than with either of thoseprior stage adaptations.

LastScopes context tomorrow,

Ben

PS. Whatdo you think?

March 19, 2025: ScopesStudying: Bryan and Darrow

[100 yearsago this month, the Tennessee General Assembly passed the ButlerAct, prohibiting public school teachers from teaching evolution. Sothis week I’ll AmericanStudy that law and the famoustrial it produced, leading up to a weekend post on current attacks oneducators.]

On twoways to contextualize the Scopes trial’s (and one of America’s) most famousdebate.

Prominenttrials can frequently morph into something different from and more than theirexplicit legal focus, but I’m not sure any trial in American history did somore clearly than did the Scopes trial (certainly theOJ trial is a contender for that title as well). Given that Scopes was recruitedto stand trial as I discussed in yesterday’s post, perhaps the trial was alwaysdestined to become focused on much more than just this one teacher’s case oreven the Butler Act specifically. But it truly evolved thanks to the involvementof two of the nation’s most famous legal and political figures, on the trial’stwo respective sides: for the prosecution, “TheGreat Commoner” himself WilliamJennings Bryan; and for the defense, without question the nation’s most prominentlawyer in the period, just a year past hiscelebrated closing in the trial of Leopold & Loeb, Clarence Darrow. Thebattle between the two men and their respective positions on evolution,religion, and society became the story of the trial, and culminated in Darrow’stwo-hour questioning of Bryan on the courthouselawn (so a larger audience could hear it) on July 20, 1925.

Theexcellent pieces at those last two hyperlinks tell the story of that debate, andof the two men’s overall involvement in the trial, at length, and I encourageyou to read both of them to learn more about this famous, fraught, and fascinatingmoment in American legal and social history. Here I want to offer two differentbut interconnected ways to contextualize the Bryan-Darrow showdown. The moreobvious, and certainly not an inaccurate one, is that it exemplified a seriesof ongoing cultural and national clashes in early 20th centuryAmerica: between the 19th and 20th centuries, between amore traditional and more modern perspective, between rural and urban communities,between (most obviously of all I suppose) conservatism and progressivism. Thebreakdown of those categories is nowhere near as straightforward or simple as theymight suggest, not in 1925 and not at any other point—21st centuryconservatives have pegged WoodrowWilson as a progressive icon, for example; let’s just say Iwould strenuously disagree—but that doesn’t mean that there aren’tparticularly striking moments of overt conflict between them, and the Bryan-Darrowdebate definitely qualifies as such.

But Iwould add that the debate also reflected another defining duality, one that is atthe heart of my mostrecent book and likewise of many of my analysesof our current moment: the conflict between mythic and criticalpatriotisms. It might seem that it was the Bible on which that conflict betweenthe two men was focused: Bryan had delivered a famous speech in Tennessee notlong before the trial began entitled “Is the Bible True?”;and Darrow grilled him at length, and from the general consensus of the audienceto great success (as onecommentator put it, “As a man and as a legend, Bryan was destroyed by histestimony that day”), on many Biblical stories that could not possibly beliterally true. But I believe their respective perspectives also embody mythicand critical patriotism as I’ve tried to defined them over the last few years. Atone point Bryan answered Darrow, “I do not think about things I don’t think about,”which sure captures mythic patriotism’s narrow and exclusionary focus. WhereasDarrow’s probing and critical perspective, expressed throughout this debate andthe trial as a whole, reflects hisoverarching view that “True patriotism hates injustice in its own land morethan anywhere else.”

NextScopes context tomorrow,

Ben

PS. Whatdo you think?

March 18, 2025: ScopesStudying: John Scopes

[100 yearsago this month, the Tennessee General Assembly passed the ButlerAct, prohibiting public school teachers from teaching evolution. Sothis week I’ll AmericanStudy that law and the famoustrial it produced, leading up to a weekend post on current attacks oneducators.]

On threeinteresting facts about the Tennesseescience teacher and football coach who became the center of one of America’smostfamous trials.

1)     Innocence?: I think it’s become relativelywell known (at least compared to many historical realities) that Scopes wasrecruited (by geologistGeorge Rappleyea and other scientists and businessmen in the town of Daytonwhere Scopes taught) to stand trial for violating the Butler Act. But what Ididn’t realize until researching this series was that even by the letter ofthat restrictive law, Scopes might have been innocent—it’s true that the textbookhe and all state biology teachers in that era were required to use, GeorgeWilliam Hunter’s Civic Biology, included a chapter on evolution; butScopes later admittedto local reporter William Kinsey Hutchinson that he had omitted thatchapter from his lessons. Hutchinson didn’t publish his story until after thetrial’s verdict, or perhaps this famous trial would have ended differently.

2)     A Socialist Campaign: In any case, Scopes wasfound guilty on July 21, 1925, and his conviction was upheldby the Tennessee Supreme Court a year later (although they vacated his $100fine because the judge, rather than the jury, had determined the amount). Thetrial and verdict would linger with Scopes for the rest of his life, onlybecoming somewhat more of a positive presence decades later as I’ll highlight below.But of course they’re not the whole story, and one distinct and particularlyinteresting detail is that in1932 he ran an at-large campaign for a U.S. House of Representatives seatfrom Kentucky (his childhood home, to which he and his family had relocatedafter the trial) as aSocialist Party candidate. Probably wouldn’t help his case withconservative Tennessee neighbors if they knew that fact, but it makes clearthat he wasn’t just recruited or forced into political conversations.

3)     A Late-Life Embrace: Again, for a long timeScopes saw the trial and verdict as an albatross, but in the decade before his1970 death he began to change his perspective. That shift is particularly clearin a trio of 1960 events: attending the July U.S. premiere of the filmInherit the Wind (on which more in Thursday’s post), telling the storyof the trial on an Octoberepisode of the TV game show To Tell the Truth, and taking part in thatyear’s celebrations of JohnT. Scopes Day in Dayton. Scopes would lean into those associations with thetrial for the rest of his life, culminating in his emphasis on that story inhis 1967 autobiography Center of the Storm: Memoirsof John T. Scopes—the first edition of which, as you can see at thathyperlink, features a monkey on the cover, natch.

NextScopes context tomorrow,

Ben

PS. Whatdo you think?

March 17, 2025: ScopesStudying: The Butler Act

[100 yearsago this month, the Tennessee General Assembly passed the ButlerAct, prohibiting public school teachers from teaching evolution. Sothis week I’ll AmericanStudy that law and the famoustrial it produced, leading up to a weekend post on current attacks oneducators.]

For thelaw’s 100th anniversary, on three interesting historical ironies aroundit.

1)     JohnWashington Butler’s Beliefs: The state representative who introduced theAct (and for whom it was nicknamed thereafter) was mostly known as a farmer,but had worked as a teacher as a young man. That’s an interesting detail, butthe irony I want to highlight is that, by his own admission, Butler had noknowledge of evolution when he introduced the bill. As henoted, “No, I didn’t know anything about evolution when I introduced it. I’dread in the papers that boys and girls were coming home from school and tellingtheir fathers and mothers that the Bible was all nonsense.” Perhaps it not anirony so much as a very telling, and frustratingly American, detail that theauthor of the nation’s most famous anti-evolution educational law was poorlyeducated about evolution.

2)     Austin Peay’s Advocacy:Butler’s bill passed the Tennessee House in January 1925 and the TennesseeSenate in March, and then was signed into law on March 21 by Governor AustinPeay. Peay, was serving the first of what would be three terms as Governor (he tragicallydied in office in October 1927), was an influential political figure in thestate on multiple levels (he was ranked the state’s best governor by historiansin a 1981 poll, forexample). But the irony here is that the most significant level seems to havebeen hiseducational reforms—when he took office the state’s education system wasworst in the country by several measures, and he worked to change that,building new schools, lengthening the school year, increasing teacher pay andbenefits, and more. Guess those pro-teacher policies didn’t extend to academicfreedom, though.

3)     An Overdue, Immediate Repeal: The famous trialabout which I’ll have much more to say this week was the Act’s most prominent aswell as immediate legacy—but the law stayed on the books for more than fourdecades, greatly influencing generations of Tennessee schoolkids (and thus theentire state) in the process. The irony, though, is how suddenly that changed—whenteacherGary Scott, who had been fired for violating the Act, successfully sued forreinstatement under the First Amendment, it took just three days for both legislativehouses to pass (and Governor Buford Ellington to sign) a billrepealing the Butler Act. A state legislature acting swiftly and decisivelyto do away with an outdated, prejudiced law and help the state move forwardinto a more progressive future? Not just ironic but, here in 2025, ideal.

NextScopes context tomorrow,

Ben

PS. Whatdo you think?

March 15-16, 2025: Reflections of a College Dad

[With oneson in college and another about to be, Spring Break is a lot more than just aconcept or a professional reality for this AmericanStudier. So this week I’veAmericanStudied a handful of cinematic portrayals of Spring Break, leading upto these weekend reflections on being a college Dad!]

On threeof the countless moments across this year (to date) that I’ve been pleasantlyreminded of my changed circumstances (I’ll spare y’all the sadder reminders).

1)     Stadium Spotting: As I’vementioned here a couple times, my older son is a first-year at Vanderbilt,where he’s been having a truly phenomenal time on all counts. One of the mostunexpected and delightful of those counts was the football team’s surprisinglysuccessful season, which included a truly historicupset win over Alabama. My son was able to be in the student section forthat win and most every other of their home games this year, which led to a newfavorite pastime for his brother and me: seeing if we could find him amidst thestudent section hordes when they were shown on the TV broadcasts. I can’t lie,my son’s younger eyes were much better at that game than his Dad’s, but we bothdid eventually manage to spot him each and every time—and for a Dad missing hisson acutely, those were certainly moving moments indeed.

2)     Professorial Props: My son is a CivilEngineering Major, so many of his classes during this first year have beenquite different from any that I teach (or took back in the day). But as part ofhis Fall semester, he did take a Literature and the Environment course that wasone of his favorites of the year (I genuinely believe that’s the case, biasedas I might also be), and indeed has helped convince him to add an EnvironmentalStudies Minor. Moreover, the class even taught his AmericanStudying Dad a thingor two, including introducing me to a contemporary indigenous poet I had neverpreviously know about (TommyPico). So once the semester was done and grades were in and there was hopefullyno danger of being perceived as one of “those parents,” I shot the professor a quicknote to let her know how much both my son and I had enjoyed this class (she wasas appreciative as I would have been to get such a note). Felt very much likemultiple layers of my identity connecting at once in the best possible ways.

3)     Country Concert: I hope it goes withoutsaying, for a young person embarking on their college career in Nashville, thatmy son has gotten to lots of concerts this year. But I can’t lie, I’m mostexcited about a concert that’s coming up in just over a month—thanks to my wifeand me (mainly her, as it was her awesome idea), his brother will be flyingdown for the weekend and the two of them will be seeing one of our recent favs,the great KaneBrown, perform in the city in which he and my son both live. I’m not readyto say goodbye to my younger son yet (or, well, ever), but if this is going tobe a preview of a world in which they both are in college, then it might aswell be such a fun preview!

Nextseries starts Monday,

Ben

PS. Whatdo you think, fellow college parents and all?

March 14, 2025: Spring Breaking at the Movies: Baywatch

[With oneson in college and another about to be, Spring Break is a lot more than just aconcept or a professional reality for this AmericanStudier. So this week I’llAmericanStudy a handful of cinematic portrayals of Spring Break, leading up to someweekend reflections on being a college Dad!]

[NB. Yes,I know Baywatch is neither a SpringBreak film nor a film at all (I’m writing about the TV show, not the filmadaptation, here). But this is one of my favorite posts of all time and Icouldn’t resist a chance to share it once more!]

On whythose beautiful beach bodies are also a body of evidence.

Back inthe blog’s early days, Ihumorously but also earnestly noted that to a dedicated AmericanStudier,any text, even Baywatch, is apossible site of complex analysis. I stand by that possibility, and willmomentarily offer proof of same. But before I do, it’s important to foregroundthe basic but crucial reason for Baywatch’sexistence and popularity, one succinctly highlighted by Friends’ Joey and Chandler: pretty people running in slow-motion inbathing suits. While I plan to make a bit more of the show and its contexts andmeanings than that, it’d be just plain cray-cray to pretend that either theshow’s intent or its audience didn’t focus very fully on those beautifulbodies. Moreover, such an appeal was nothing new or unique—while the beachsetting differentiated Baywatch abit, I would argue that mostprime-time soap operas have similarly depended on the attractiveness of their casts to keeptheir audiences tuning in.

If Baywatch was partly a prime-time soapopera, however, it would also be possible to define the show’s genredifferently: in relationship to both the police and medical dramas that werebeginning to dominate the TV landscape in the late 1980s and early 1990s (Baywatch debuted in 1989). After all,the show’s plotlines typically included both rescues and crimes; while thelifeguards often dealt with romantic and interpersonal drama as well, so toodid the docs of ER or thecops of Miami Vice (to nametwo of the era’s many entries in these genres). Seen in this light, andparticularly when compared to the period’s police dramas, Baywatch was relatively progressive in the gender balance of itsprotagonists—compared to another California show, CHiPs, forexample, which similarly featured pretty people solving promised land problemsbut which focused almost entirely on male protagonists. Yes, the women of Baywatch were beautiful and dressedskimpily—but the same could be said of the men, and both genders were equallyheroic as well.

Thecreators of Baywatch tried to makethe cop show parallel overt with the ill-fated detective spinoff BaywatchNights, about which the less said the better (even AmericanStudiers havetheir limits). But the problem with BaywatchNights wasn’t just its awfulness (Baywatchitself wasn’t exactly The Wire, after all), it was that it missed acrucial element to the original show’s success: the beach. And no, I’m nottalking about the bathing suits. I would argue that the most prominent 1970sand 1980s cultural images of the beach were Jaws and its many sequels and imitators, a set ofimages that made it seem increasingly less safe to go back in the water. Andthen along came David Hasselhoff, Pam Anderson, and company, all determined totake back the beaches and shift our cultural images to something far morepleasant and attractive than . Whatever you think of the show, is there anydoubt that they succeeded, forever inserting themselves and their slow-morunning into our cultural narratives of the beach?

Specialpost this weekend,

Ben

PS. Whatdo you think? Responses to this show or other Spring Break texts you’d share?

March 13, 2025: Spring Breaking at the Movies: Revenge of the Nerds II: Nerds in Paradise

[With oneson in college and another about to be, Spring Break is a lot more than just aconcept or a professional reality for this AmericanStudier. So this week I’llAmericanStudy a handful of cinematic portrayals of Spring Break, leading up to someweekend reflections on being a college Dad!]

OnAmerican anti-intellectualism, and the worse and better ways to challenge it.

As I notedin this post on myfriend Aaron Lecklider’s great book Inventing the Egghead: The Battle overBrainpower in American Culture (2013), published exactly 50 yearsafter Richard Hofstadter’s influential Anti-Intellectualism in American Life (1963),the precise origins of anti-intellectual attitudes and narratives in Americansociety are a bit unclear and contested. But whether those national narrativesare foundational (as Hofstadter argues) or more the product of Cold Waranxieties (as Lecklider does), I would say that there can be no argument at allthat by the end of the 20th and beginning of the 21stcentury these anti-intellectual threads have become dominant ones in ourcultural pattern. And, more exactly and crucially, that the development anddeepening of those narratives throughout the 50 years or so betweenHofstadter’s book and the 2016 election helped bring usto the presidency of Donald Trump, a culmination of these anti-intellectualtrends as of so many of the worst and most divisive impulses of Americanpolitics and culture.

Whichbrings us, obviously, to the Revenge of the Nerds film series. Beginningwith the 1984 original film, and featuring three sequels over the next decade(including 1987’s Spring Break-set Revengeof the Nerds II: Nerds in Paradise, the ostensible focus of this postbut, like yesterday’s subject From Justinto Kelly, not a film that needs an entire blog post on its own terms Iassure you), the nerdy protagonists of this series challenged the Reagan era’sdeepening anti-intellectual sentiments, triumphing time and again over theirpopular jock adversaries. The first film has in recent years received a gooddeal of justified criticism for the fact that its triumphant sex scene wouldactually have to beclassified as a rape scene (nerdy hero Lewis has sex with his crushwhile pretending to be her boyfriend), among quite a few other problematicmoments. And in truth, those specific problems illustrate a morefundamental issue with all the Revengefilms: their mostly unlikable heroes don’t triumph through meaningful use oftheir intelligence, but rather through things like sexual deception andviolence (in Nerds in Paradise theclimactic victory involves a tank and a punch). The message seems generally tobe that nerds can be just as awful as the rest of society.

Fortunately,the Revenge of the Nerds films werenot the only 1980s cinematic challenge to anti-intellectualism. The heroes of1985’s cultclassic film Real Genius are alsonerds, brilliant and eccentric students at the fictional Pacific TechnicalUniversity [SPOILERS in what follows, although the undeniable pleasures of Real Genius aren’t inits plot surprises]. These nerds likewise find themselves pitted against Reaganera tropes, this time Cold War militarization and the use of science andtechnology for dastardly and destructive ends (aided and abetted by theirvillainous ProfessorJerry Hathaway, William Atherton’s second deliciouslyevil character in two years). But in this case the heroes’ climactictriumph is entirely due to their intellectual prowess, which they use to outwitHathaway and his military allies and to turn weapons of mass destruction into,well, popcorn. Scoreone for a more thoughtful and inspiring American intellectualism!

LastSpring Break film tomorrow,

Ben

PS. Whatdo you think? Responses to this film or other Spring Break texts you’d share?