The " Amateur" and the " Expert": Intellectual Journalism and International Affairs
Review by: Benjamin Schwarz
World Policy Journal, Vol. 14, No. 4 (Winter, 1997/1998), pp. 97-99 Published by: The MIT Press and the World Policy Institute Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/40209559 . Accessed: 01/06/2014 18:05 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp . JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact support@jstor.org. . Sage Publications, Inc. is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to World Policy Journal. http://www.jstor.org This content downloaded from 107.212.213.167 on Sun, 1 Jun 2014 18:05:53 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions B##KS Benjamin Schwarz is executive editor of the World Policy Journal and a senior fellow at the World Policy Institute. The "Amateur" and the "Expert" Intellectual Journalism and International Affairs Benjamin Schwarz In 1956, cultural critic Dwight MacDonald surveyed the condition of American intellec- tual journalism and did not like what he saw. Dismissing the commercial magazines as a wasteland, he went on to judge The New Republic and The Nation as "clinging to the platitudes of liberal orthodoxy... shrunken, drearily predictable and of little interest to most American intellectuals." Not surpris- ingly, given his loathing of anything that smacked of "midcult," MacDonald devoted his strongest criticism to what he called the "middlebrow" journals that tried to pass as intellectual magazines - The Atlantic, Har- per's, and the now-extinct Reporter and Satur- day Review - which, in trying to reach a general audience, consistently underesti- mated their readers' intelligence, and thus produced pieces that were at once preten- tious and insipid. To MacDonald, Britain had what the United States needed. Americans, he ar- gued, write as professionals, either as schol- ars concerned with advancement in the academy - who produce the jargon-riddled, cautious, and overspecialized articles of the academic journals - or as journalists con- cerned with attracting a large and profitable audience - who write the pandering and slick articles of the commercial press. In contrast, intellectual journalism in Britain, he maintained, was imbued with the spirit of amateurism. Intellectuals there were nei- ther writing for academic colleagues who they had to impress (and not offend) nor for a general readership to whose lowest com- mon denominator they had constantly to appeal. A Narrowing Field With the periodic mourning of the passing of the "public intellectual," MacDonald's in- dictment has become familiar (although he was somewhat ahead of his time, since he wrote his survey when that breed was still supposed to be walking the earth). Since the time of MacDonald's diatribes, the pressures of academic professionalism on the one hand and the marketplace on the other have be- come far more intense, further hemming in intellectual journalism. The New Yorker may or may not be transforming itself into Vanity Fair; it is clearly, however, far less interested than it was in publishing lengthy, complex essays. Even those objects of MacDonald's scorn, The Reporter and Saturday Review, which were at least outlets for some serious writers, long ago became extinct in the Darwinian world of for-profit magazine publishing. Moreover, a number of the more widely read quarter- lies - the Yale and Antioch reviews and the South Atlantic Quarterly, for instance - that once published essays on biographical, his- torical, political, social, and economic topics have become exclusively literary publica- tions, and more academically oriented. In at least one way, though, the situation has improved since MacDonald's essay. The Atlantic and Harper's, which, for peculiar rea- sons, have been less subject to market pres- sures, long ago shed their middlebrow earnestness. (Today, the Wilson Quarterly, de- scribed by the leading historian of American publishing as an "upper-middlebrow Reader's Digest," is similar to what those magazines were in the 1950s.) Within broad limits The "Amateur" and the "Expert" 97 This content downloaded from 107.212.213.167 on Sun, 1 Jun 2014 18:05:53 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions they are quite open to ground-breaking, pro- vocative, and "difficult" articles. But the primary purpose of The Atlantic and Harper's is not to serve as a forum for original thinkers; rather, it is to report exist- ing trends - to serve, as Harper's editor Lewis Lapham says, as "a monthly review of the trend of events and the tendencies of the public mind." Still less is this the function of the opinion weeklies. MacDonald bemoaned the absence of an American New Statesmen or Spectator, but for all their verve, the contents of these journals was, and is, pretty thin. Two thousand words, the upper limit for the length of most articles in, say, The Nation or The New Republic, is just enough to express a point of view on some topical subject; it is not enough to present and argue an unortho- dox idea. At their best, such pieces can be provocative, but that length often seems to encourage a snide and glib style and articles that are, perforce, little more than extended opinion pieces. This type of article hardly advances intellectual life. The American Tradition Rather than extol the mid-twentieth-cen- tury British weeklies, MacDonald should have championed the British intellectual quarterlies of the nineteenth century, the Ed- inburgh and Westminster reviews, which pub- lished long, well-written, and widely read theoretical and practical essays. In fact, the United States need not look across the Atlan- tic for models because America had a tradi- tion of intellectual journalism as impressive as Britain's, dating from the nineteenth cen- tury's Atlantic, Harper's, The Century, and North American Review and flourishing well into the twentieth century. As Lewis Mum- ford remembered nostalgically: "Until the Great Depression there was a sufficiently wide variety of weeklies and monthlies, some like The Dial and The American Mer- cury paying a modest two cents a word, some like Harper's and Scribner's paying more, so that I never was compelled to un- dertake a project that did not, in some way, further my purposes.... It would seem almost sadistic to give the present generation of writers an account of the liberated state of publishing then." MacDonald could have looked back at a time, before he started writ- ing, when a far greater number of magazines published lively, serious, and well-developed articles for an intelligent general audience, for in addition to Scribner's, The Dial, and The American Mercury, The Century, The Out- look, The World's Work, The Forum, The Masses, and Review of Reviews had long since passed from the scene. Even when MacDonald was writing, The New Yorker and the more general quarterlies such as the Yale, Antioch, South Atlantic, Par- tisan, and Virginia Quarterly reviews contin- ued to publish long, ambitious, nonacademic pieces. While these intellectual quarterlies always paid little and had small circulations, they mattered. In the 1930s, Yale Review published John Maynard Keynes's literate, accessible, and heterodox essays on the world economy. In the 1940s, Antioch Review pub- lished Carey McWilliams's and Ralph El- lison's pioneering essays on race in America. In the 1950s, I am told, there were young account executives and lawyers in New York who eagerly awaited the next Kenyon Review. Virginia Quarterly Review - which continues to offer fiction, poetry, and literary criticism as well as social criticism and essays on poli- tics and even economics - played a promi- nent role in the country's intellectual and cultural life. Indeed, from Henry Adams, Frederick Jackson Turner, and Mark Twain to Waldo Frank, Mumford, Randolph Bourne, H. L. Mencken, Edmund Wilson, C. Wright Mills, and C. Vann Woodward, American intellectual journalism's highest achieve- ment was, and remains, the lively yet seri- ous essay written with lucidity, style, and what Allen Tate called "leisured thought" and "considered depth." (To appreciate these last characteristics, compare Henry Adams's annual reviews of politics, "The Session," published in the North American Review, 98 WORLD POLICY JOURNAL
This content downloaded from 107.212.213.167 on Sun, 1 Jun 2014 18:05:53 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions which brought events in Washington into the perspectives of history and philosophical statesmanship, to, say, The New Yorkers "Letter from Washington," which has be- come merely high-level Washington gossip.) These pieces, dealing with history, poli- tics, foreign affairs, and cultural criticism display a depth of knowledge and an infor- mal and personal style that emerges when the writer is trying neither to appease nor impress the reader, but regards him or her as an intellectual equal. For this kind of writ- ing to thrive, the writer must recognize the reader to be "the cultivated layman who felt ...that the high places of literature were not beyond his reach: he saw himself and the author in a communion of understanding in which the communicants were necessary to each other," as Tate described the ideal. This tradition is almost entirely dead. Only The American Scholar, Virginia Quarterly Review, The Atlantic, and Harper's occasional- ly offer such pieces. And, with the exception of those in The Atlantic and Harper's, hardly anyone reads them. In fact, it is often impos- sible to find the former journals in even the most highbrow bookstores or newsstands. The Myopia of the Expert This dearth of outlets for serious and sus- tained essays on culture and public affairs has had a particularly unhappy effect on the intellectual discourse concerning foreign pol- icy. The "public intellectuals" of the past, by definition, wrote and commented upon subjects with which they were not profes- sionally involved - Mumford on architec- ture, Woodward on America's self-righteous approach to the world, and Edmund Wilson on the Dead Sea Scrolls and on the literature of the Civil War, for instance. Jane Jacobs could write in a startling new way about cit- ies precisely because she was not trapped in the orthodoxies of the urban planning pro- fessionals; ideally, public intellectuals bring to their subject of inquiry a breadth of knowledge and imagination unhampered by "professionalization. " Today, however, discussion of foreign af- fairs is left to the professionals. Harper's al- most never and The Atlantic only rarely publish pieces on foreign affairs, believing that the foreign policy periodicals - Foreign Affairs, Foreign Policy, The National Interest, and the World Policy Journal - cover that beat. But this is like neglecting pieces on crime or race because those topics are ad- dressed in the American Journal of Sociology, The foreign policy magazines are really professional journals; their contributors (and, to a lesser degree, their readership) are drawn by and large from the "policy com- munity"- -current and former government officials and the academics and think tank analysts. As these contributors recirculate the same views and "debates," more often than not a stale consensus tends to take hold. Now that foreign policy has become the exclusive province of the experts, on the rare occasion that the general intellectual maga- zines choose to run a piece on foreign policy, they simply round up the usual suspects. During the Vietnam War, when the New York Review of Books was in its "radical" phase, it published articles on American pol- icy by Gore Vidal; now, it turns to Stanley Hoffmann (as does Dissent) and to former State Department officials. Thus, when the educated public seeks in- tellectual discussion of foreign policy - dis- cussion of America's place in the world, and an attempt to put that conception in broader philosophical, cultural, or historical contexts - by writers whose horizons extend beyond Foggy Bottom and the Council on Foreign Relations, it really has nowhere to turn. At a time when, as we are constantly reminded, the United States must reexamine funda- mentally its role in the world and when American society faces global pressures that it is less and less able to manage, let alone control, American intellectual journalism should revive its tradition of amateurism and "considered depth." It could stand fewer pol- icy experts, but it needs its Adamses, Twains, Wilsons, and Woodwards.* The "Amateur" and the "Expert" 99 This content downloaded from 107.212.213.167 on Sun, 1 Jun 2014 18:05:53 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions