Why Philosophy Polices Harder Than Law

Philosophy enforces tighter coalitional discipline than legal academia because the structural conditions on a philosopher are tighter than those on a law professor. Start with size. A top philosophy department has fifteen to twenty-five faculty. A top law school has sixty to a hundred and twenty. Small groups police easier. Everyone knows everyone. Disagreement gets personal fast.
Now exit options. A philosopher who loses standing in his field has nowhere to go. He cannot practice philosophy outside the academy. Industry does not hire metaphysicians. Government does not hire epistemologists. Tenure track jobs outside philosophy will not take him either. His credential serves one market. A law professor has options. He can practice law, advise firms, consult for industry, write briefs, take a judgeship, run a think tank, write paid op-eds, do expert witness work. His credential serves several markets. Coalitions hold less power over a man who has somewhere else to go.
The prestige economy concentrates the asymmetry further. Philosophy runs on a small set of gatekeeping nodes: the Philosophical Gourmet Report, a handful of journals (Philosophical Review, Mind, Nous, Journal of Philosophy), and letters from a few dozen senior figures at top departments. Brian Leiter (b. 1963) built the Gourmet Report, and for two decades his blog shaped which programs got applicants and which graduates got interviews. Legal academia has no equivalent. US News ranks law schools, but no single editor or blogger holds anything close to Leiter’s former position in philosophy. Legal academia runs on a more distributed prestige network: SSRN downloads, citations in opinions, lateral hiring across schools, recognition from judges and practitioners.
External constituencies cut the other way. Law has them and philosophy does not. A law professor’s audience includes judges, legislators, regulators, practitioners, journalists. Eugene Volokh (b. 1968) writes a blog that gets cited in court filings. Akhil Amar (b. 1958) gets called to testify before Congress. Cass Sunstein (b. 1954) cycles in and out of government. These outside audiences validate a law professor apart from his colleagues. A philosopher has no such audience. His readers are other philosophers. Coalitional approval is the main currency he can earn.
Funding structure tilts the same way. Law schools are revenue centers. They charge premium tuition. They draw alumni money. They run executive education. A dean reports to a provost but operates with autonomy. Philosophy departments are cost centers funded from general university budgets. A philosophy chair has less leverage with administration. He depends on the goodwill of deans who answer to other constituencies.
The cases bear this out. Rebecca Tuvel published an article in Hypatia in 2017 comparing transracial and transgender identity. Over five hundred philosophers signed an open letter demanding retraction. The journal’s associate editors apologized. Tuvel kept her position at Rhodes, but the field had shown what coordination it could muster against a junior member. Nathan Cofnas held a Leverhulme Early Career Fellowship at Cambridge philosophy. He wrote on hereditarianism. Cambridge philosophy faculty pressured Emmanuel College, and the college terminated his fellowship. Kathleen Stock (b. 1972) resigned from Sussex philosophy after sustained pressure over her writing on sex and gender. Peter Ludlow (b. 1957) lost his position at Northwestern philosophy. Colin McGinn (b. 1950) lost his at Miami philosophy. The list runs long.
Compare legal academia. Amy Wax (b. 1953) wrote things that drew sustained attacks from colleagues, students, alumni. Penn sanctioned her. She kept her chair. Volokh holds heterodox positions on speech and discrimination law and has not lost his footing at UCLA. Ilya Somin (b. 1973) writes against immigration restriction from a libertarian perspective at George Mason. Jonathan Turley (b. 1961) at GW writes from positions most of his colleagues oppose. Glenn Reynolds (b. 1960) at Tennessee does the same. Josh Blackman (b. 1984) at South Texas pushes conservative constitutional positions and gets cited in major opinions. None of them faced what Cofnas faced.
People drive the asymmetry. In philosophy, gatekeepers include senior figures at top programs whose letters decide hiring (NYU, Rutgers, Princeton, Michigan, Pittsburgh, MIT have outsized influence). Editors of top journals control what counts as a publication that helps tenure. Open letter organizers can mobilize hundreds of signatures within days because the field is small and densely connected. The American Philosophical Association sets professional norms. In legal academia, nothing this concentrated exists. Judges hire clerks from a wide range of schools. Practitioners read law reviews from many tiers. Citation patterns reward ideological variety because a brief writer wants whatever helps him win.
Two more reasons round this out. Philosophy treats argument as the field’s product, so a philosopher who argues for the wrong conclusion gets read as having shown bad character, not just bad reasoning. Legal academia treats argument as instrumental to client representation, even when no client exists. A law professor making a controversial argument can frame himself as steelmanning a position someone might need to make in court. The argumentative ethic of law school dilutes the moral weight of any single conclusion. The argumentative ethic of philosophy concentrates that weight.
Last, demographic composition. Philosophy has worked itself ideologically homogeneous over decades. The field’s left-right ratio runs tighter than law’s. Law schools have Federalist Society chapters, conservative legal scholars at Notre Dame and George Mason and Chicago, Catholic legal theorists at Catholic University and BYU. Philosophy has Notre Dame for analytic theism, Bowling Green for ethics, Baylor and a few others. Outposts of dissent in legal academia outnumber and outsize their philosophical counterparts.
Put it all together and the picture comes clear. A philosopher faces a small dense network with one prestige economy, no exit options, no outside validators, and a professional culture that reads disagreement as moral failure. A law professor faces a larger looser network with several prestige economies, multiple exit options, several outside validators, and a professional culture that treats disagreement as the work itself. Coalitions police harder where they have more to police with and less competition for the loyalty of their members. Philosophy has both. Law has neither.

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‘DEI in Science and Medicine: Missing Metrics and Measures’

The War on Science: Thirty-Nine Renowned Scientists and Scholars Speak Out About Current Threats to Free Speech, Open Inquiry, and the Scientific Process‘ (July 29, 2025)

The chapter “DEI in Science and Medicine: Missing Metrics and Measures” appears in the anthology edited by Lawrence Krauss (b. 1954). It serves as the book’s medical case study. The argument is procedural rather than philosophical. Wax and Cohen ask why diversity, equity, and inclusion programs in medicine have not had to satisfy the evidentiary standards that govern every other clinical or institutional intervention. That question gives the chapter its force.
Medicine retains, more than most modern professions, a procedural culture of evidence. New drugs run through randomized trials. Surgical techniques face replication. Screening protocols undergo cost-benefit review. Public health interventions get monitored for unintended consequences. Cohen, an oncology researcher at Penn, anchors the chapter in this ethos. He describes the FDA framework in detail and emphasizes endpoints, falsifiability, side effects, and post-market surveillance. He then asks why DEI initiatives in admissions, hiring, curriculum design, residency training, grant funding, and treatment protocols have rolled out across the profession over roughly fifteen years without comparable measurement. The chapter’s central rhetorical move is to take medicine’s own most prestigious vocabulary and turn it on a project that did not arrive through that vocabulary’s normal channels.
Their critique has four strands.
The first is missing endpoints. They argue that DEI initiatives lack defined deliverables. Traditional medical interventions specify what counts as success in advance: tumor shrinkage, survival at five years, reduced readmission, lower infection rate. DEI programs rarely define improvement with similar precision, which makes evaluation circular and self-confirming.
The second is unmonitored side effects. Drug trials track adverse events because intervention has costs. Wax and Cohen argue that DEI programs in medicine should track unintended consequences with the same discipline. Possible costs they identify include displacement of basic science training, attrition of high-performing applicants, erosion of clinical standards, and chilling effects on faculty speech. Whether these costs are real or exaggerated is the empirical question. That the question goes mostly unasked is their procedural complaint.
The third is replication failure. Here the chapter has its strongest empirical foothold. The McKinsey reports linking workforce diversity to firm financial performance have failed independent replication, and Jeremiah Green and John Hand’s 2021 reanalysis found no robust correlation in the underlying data. The Greenwood et al. study claiming Black newborns survive at higher rates under Black physicians has been challenged on birthweight covariates and selection. Studies of implicit-bias training show small, fading, and sometimes reversed effects. These are findings published in respectable journals, and they undercut a portion of the empirical scaffolding on which institutional DEI policy in medicine has been built.
The fourth is the absence of cost-benefit framing. Wax and Cohen argue that medicine accepts tradeoffs. Chemotherapy poisons healthy cells along with cancerous ones. Surgery damages tissue to remove disease. Screening produces false positives. The profession evaluates whether benefits exceed harms and whether intervention beats no intervention. They argue that DEI is presented as cost-free moral progress, with skepticism about costs treated as a form of bias.
The chapter’s strongest contribution is conceptual rather than empirical. It does not present new datasets. It asks whether a technocratic profession can keep coherent standards if some interventions get shielded from falsification because they have moral sanctification. That is a serious question, and one the profession has mostly avoided.
The weaknesses are several and worth setting out plainly.
The authors sometimes slide from “insufficient evidence” to implied skepticism about value. Those are different claims. The argument that DEI interventions deserve rigorous evaluation does not entail that they are ineffective, and a careful procedural critic should keep the two propositions apart. The chapter often does not.
The chapter underestimates the difficulty of operationalizing some medical and institutional outcomes. Some goals of DEI advocates are measurable in straightforward ways: physician retention, rural staffing, maternal mortality across populations, diagnostic accuracy across racial groups, malpractice disparities, clinical trial participation rates. Others are sociological and harder to quantify: trust, communication, recruitment pipelines, institutional legitimacy. The chapter sometimes treats softer variables as ideological vapor. Medicine has always rested on social trust as well as pharmacology, and dismissing the harder-to-measure dimensions as merely symbolic concedes too much in advance.
The chapter frames DEI almost entirely as an external ideological invasion rather than as a partial response to documented institutional failures. Disparities in pain treatment, maternal mortality, and diagnostic accuracy across racial groups have a peer-reviewed evidentiary base that long predates the current movement. The movement gained traction in part because the profession had its own evidence problem to address. Treating DEI as pure intrusion bypasses that history and weakens the chapter’s claim to procedural neutrality.
The call for symmetric evidentiary standards is asymmetric in application. Wax and Cohen demand RCT-grade evidence for new DEI interventions while treating traditional filters as presumptively valid. The MCAT predicts first-year medical school grades reasonably well and patient outcomes years later poorly. USMLE step scores correlate with board passage and weakly with clinical performance. Most credentialing in medicine has never cleared the evidentiary bar the chapter sets for DEI. The narrower argument the chapter might make is that medicine has a pervasive evidence problem and that DEI extended rather than introduced it. The chapter prefers the broader argument that DEI is uniquely unaccountable, and the comparative evidence does not support the broader version.
The chapter pre-codes its verdict. Phrases such as “punishable heresy,” “grand medical experiment,” “reckless,” and “fatally defective” do not read as a researcher posing an open question. They read as a prosecutor closing. That undercuts the procedural neutrality the chapter claims to honor and signals to the careful reader that the demand for cold measurement comes wrapped in heated commitment.
The chapter treats DEI as a single object. The term covers admissions weighting, anti-bias training, curriculum changes around race-conscious diagnosis, pipeline programs for underrepresented students, supplier policies, language guides, and structural staffing reviews. These differ in measurability, evidence base, plausibility, and cost. A serious procedural critique might disaggregate. Lumping them under one acronym and demanding they collectively pass an FDA-style trial is a category error the chapter never confronts.
The collaboration between Wax and her husband Roger Cohen is rhetorically shrewd. Cohen brings clinical credentials and a researcher’s vocabulary. Wax brings institutional skepticism and a willingness to absorb professional cost. Each covers for what the other cannot supply alone. The chapter reads differently in the imagination of either author working without the other, and the difference favors the joint version.
The chapter fits the broader argument of The War on Science that postmodern and activist frameworks have moved from the humanities into the hard sciences and medicine. Many essays in such anthologies traffic in generalities about academic capture. This one names admissions criteria, faculty meetings, curriculum committees, and grant review. The specificity gives it traction.
The strongest reading is narrow and procedural. Many DEI claims in medicine entered the institutional bloodstream without evidentiary discipline. The headline studies have weakened on examination. The profession has not developed measurement frameworks that match the moral weight it attaches to the project. These claims are defensible and important.
The weaker reading, toward which the chapter often slides, is global and political. The global complaint is that medicine has been captured by a foreign ideology. The narrow complaint is that medicine got sloppy with a project of its own. The narrow version is largely correct. The global version runs ahead of the evidence and reads as a culture-war emblem rather than a procedural audit.
The chapter’s largest blind spot is its silence on what a defensible medical DEI program might look like. It tells the profession what to measure and what to suspect. It does not tell the profession what tradeoffs to accept, what disparities to address, or how to respond to documented inequalities that the movement was a response to. A purely critical chapter has the virtues of clarity and the limits of clarity. Readers looking for a constructive medical answer to the problems DEI advocates name will not find one here, and the absence is part of why the chapter sits more comfortably in a polemical anthology than in a clinical journal.
The chapter is the rare case of an internal audit dressed in the profession’s own clothes. That is harder for medical institutions to dismiss than a humanities-based critique, and the relative silence with which the chapter has been received within medicine is telling. Silence preserves the moral framing the chapter contests. Counterargument would require fighting on the evidentiary ground Wax and Cohen chose. The ground is uneven enough that the institutions have mostly chosen not to fight on it. Whether that posture holds over the next decade is the open question the chapter sets up and does not answer.

‘Fifteen Years of DEI in Medicine, No Proof It Works | Roger Cohen, Amy Wax, & Lawrence Krauss’ (Aug. 7, 2025)

This puts Wax in a fifth room. Lawrence Krauss (b. 1954) hosts. Roger Cohen, Wax’s husband and an oncologist at Penn, joins the conversation. The frame is the new Krauss-edited volume The War on Science, and the chapter Wax and Cohen wrote together makes the methodological case against DEI in medicine. The room’s commitment is empirical rigor. Wax operates inside that frame because she trained in it before law school.
The biographical material at 8:08 to 12:14 is useful for the analytical record. Yale undergraduate in biochemistry. Harvard Medical School. Neurology residency. A year of law school during the residency. The Justice Department, then UVA, then Penn. She tells Krauss she was “more suited to being a lawyer than a doctor” and names the temperamental gap candidly. The argumentative nature she claims at 11:44 is consistent with her later career. The science training is consistent with her demand for empirical evidence in social claims. The two together explain why the Krauss room fits her.
Cohen names the master concept of the conversation at 21:13: “the ongoing tyranny of the accreditators.” Wax extends the phrase at 22:27 into an institutional analysis. “In order to receive federal funds, schools of all varieties, universities, graduate schools, secondary schools even have to be approved by these accrediting organizations. That job is farmed out uh by governments that are supporting educational institutions and they have been captured. They have been cap they are a monopoly for one thing and they are monopoly but it has been captured by the far-left.” The accreditation system is the institutional spine that makes coalition capture stable. Pinsof’s alliance theory at infrastructure level. The federal government delegated accreditation to private bodies. The bodies were captured. The institutions cannot opt out without losing federal funds. The capture is therefore self-perpetuating, and individual institutional leaders have limited room to resist regardless of their private views. Wax’s analysis is structural rather than conspiratorial. The capture pattern is a stable institutional equilibrium.
The chapter argues that the Joint Commission on Accreditation of Healthcare Organizations now scores hospitals on health equity criteria the same way it scores them on cleanliness and mortality. Cohen reads this as bureaucratic capture. Wax reads it as something stronger. The accreditor gets to define what counts as a good hospital. Once health equity sits inside that definition, hospitals comply or close. The institutional pattern repeats across medical school admissions through the AAMC, graduate education, and federal research funding through the NIH.
The convenient beliefs analysis sits at the heart of the chapter. Three foundational DEI studies do the citation work that the field rests on. The Oakland barbershop study at 38:45. The Florida newborn study at 41:56. The McKinsey diversity-profitability study at 47:13. All three have been formally critiqued. The Florida study has been formally debunked in Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences once researchers controlled for low birth weight. The McKinsey study cannot be replicated. None of this changes the citation traffic. Turner on convenient beliefs at scale. The studies do coalition work independent of their empirical status. The 800+ citations of the Oakland study and the 300+ citations of the Florida newborn study accumulate because the citing literature needs the conclusions, not because the conclusions survive scrutiny.
The Greenwood study margin note at 43:24 is the cleanest single artifact in the conversation. Cohen reads what the lead author wrote about white babies doing better with white doctors: “I’d rather not focus on this if we’re telling the story from the perspective of saving black infants. This undermines the narrative.” The narrative governs the data. Findings that confirm the narrative make it into the published paper. Findings that complicate the narrative get marked for removal. The author states the rule explicitly in margin notes that later become public. Turner on convenient beliefs documented in real time. The convenient belief drives the data selection. The data selection produces the convenient belief. The loop closes inside the same paper.
Wax contributes the snowballing observation at 46:03. “The snowballing effect here is really something to behold. And you know if you cite a study that cites a study that cites a study it just becomes received wisdom that cannot be questioned.” The empirical question disappears once the citation chain is long enough. Most readers cite the citing literature, not the original. The original’s flaws cease to operate inside the field’s working memory. The convenient belief becomes infrastructure.
Krauss adds his Pauli reference at 41:13. Wolfgang Pauli (1900-1958) on bad physics: “not even wrong.” The phrase fits the Oakland study. Hypothetical willingness to undergo preventive care, measured at one point in time, extrapolated to lifetime health benefits, never validated against actual health outcomes. The study is unfalsifiable by design. It cannot be refuted because it never made a refutable prediction. The DEI literature contains many such studies and few of the kind drug development requires.
Wax’s hide-the-ball passage at 1:04:30 names the meta-level move. Standardized tests in medicine are now pass/fail rather than numerical. Outcome data on diversity admits is not collected or not released. The empirical basis for assessing the program has been dismantled by the program’s own administrators. Turner on tacit knowledge at the institutional level. The norms that would let outsiders test the claims have been removed. The claims become unfalsifiable by construction. The ideology survives because the data that might disconfirm it has been put beyond reach.
The HPV passage at 53:55 illustrates the methodological corruption Cohen documents and Wax frames. HPV-related head and neck cancer disproportionately affects White middle-class men. A grant studying the disease in the affected population gets refused renewal because the population is not diverse enough. The DEI mandate inverts the basic logic of epidemiology. You study the disease in the population that has the disease. The mandate replaces that logic with demographic proportionality. Sickle cell anemia is the parallel case. You do not demand proportional White representation in sickle cell trials because the disease primarily affects Black patients. The selective application of the DEI rule to White-affected diseases reveals the rule for what it is.
Wax’s most direct biological claim comes at 1:03:13. “We still have very significant disparities by race, by group in academic achievement. Uh and they are pdurable. They’re replicated. They’re persistent. Um despite enormous efforts and expenditures, they have not really changed and not really gone away. uh but you know come hell or high water we have to have a certain percentage of particular minorities in medicine even though I’m sorry to say uh that is not supported by the data um groups are not ready for prime time in proportion to their numbers uh and so we’re going to sacrifice quality in medicine.” The race realism position from the Loury conversation reappears in the Krauss room with the same content and a more clinical register. The hostile-environment frame gets traded for the empirical-mismatch frame. The same underlying claim does the work in both rooms.
The Sally Satel (b. 1956) line at 1:06:31 carries the methodological case at its compact best. “The best way to be an anti-racist doctor is to be a good doctor.” The line resists the substitution the DEI regime makes. Anti-racism and competence are different things. The DEI regime confuses them and rewards anti-racist performance over medical competence. Patients pay the cost. The line names the substitution and refuses it.
Three observations beyond the chapter.
First, each room receives a different register. The underlying claims hold steady across rooms. The Krauss room reveals the science-trained Wax that the other rooms can only gesture at, because only the Krauss room can use her biochemistry-Yale, neurology-Harvard, drug-trial-vocabulary fluency.
Second, the tyranny-of-the-accreditors framework is the chapter’s most portable contribution. The framework explains why institutional capture persists despite leadership changes, donor pressure, and public criticism. Federal funding depends on accreditation. Accreditation depends on accreditors. Accreditors are captured. The dependency chain locks the system. Trump-administration efforts to threaten federal funds work only if they can break the accreditation dependency. So far they have not. The framework makes the strategic point clear. Changing the accreditation infrastructure is the higher-leverage move than changing university presidents.
Third, the Cohen-Wax pairing is structurally interesting. The heterodox legal academic and the heterodox medical academic write a chapter together. Both are senior. Both have institutional protection, Wax through tenure and Cohen through clinical reputation. The chapter, written together, lands differently than either author alone could. Cohen alone might read as a doctor’s complaint. Wax alone might read as a law professor opining on medicine. Together they cover the methodological and the institutional analyses with credentials that resist easy dismissal. The coalition formation against DEI in medicine now includes married couples publishing together, which is a different pattern than the lone-conservative-professor pattern Wax sometimes presents as. The Wax-Cohen team produces scholarship the institutions cannot ignore on its credentials, even if they choose to ignore its content.
The closing paragraph of the chapter, which Krauss reads at 1:09:23, is the methodological summation. “There are some simple specific steps that could be taken. The weak studies underpinning many sweeping diversity initiatives need to be sunsetted. Starting with the Oakland adults and Florida newborn studies. Neither article is worthy of respect even under the basic standards of social science. In science, mediocre and flawed papers get replaced by better papers. Older treatment paradigms in medicine are regularly abandoned in favor of better treatments.” The standard for retiring DEI studies is the standard medicine already applies to its own treatments. Wax’s argument across all five rooms is in the end this argument. Apply to social claims the standards your own field already applies to its scientific claims, and the social claims fail the test.

‘Who Threatens Free Expression within the American University and Democracy? | Amy Wax’ (Aug. 23, 2025)

With Cofnas, Wax built theory through dialogue. With Gray, she litigated her case and extended the diagnosis. Here she has the floor uninterrupted and presents the systematic version of her framework. The Three F’s structure of Falsehood, Fragility, and Feminization gives the apparatus a clarity the interview formats did not produce. Each F names a distinct route by which woke ideology produces censorship: Falsehood through the empirical denial of group difference, Fragility through the subjectivization of harm, Feminization through the importation of nursery values into the grown-up institution. Three routes feeding one apparatus.
The Falsehood section runs 3:01 to 7:23. The argument is the equality thesis again. Group outcomes must converge, so persistent differences must trace to discrimination, so any empirical claim of difference must be suppressed. Wax names this as the engine of the censorship rather than mere preference for it. At 6:36 she states that the empirical case for group differences “ought to be obvious to any honest person,” which is the rhetorical move most likely to read as overconfidence to readers who have not engaged the underlying psychometric literature. The stronger version of her claim sits a few sentences earlier at 6:11, when she says the equality thesis requires suppressing facts contrary to it. That is a structural argument and it stands.
The Madison-Lincoln passage at 9:33 to 12:08 forms the philosophical core. Madison on faction in the Federalist Papers. Abraham Lincoln (1809-1865) on the Confederacy as fellow citizens rather than enemies. Wax uses both to argue that loyal opposition is a hard cultural achievement, not a default of human politics. At 11:08 she pushes the argument further than the Gray interview: “the rest of the world will never have nice things” because “they didn’t get the memo about how to treat a loyal opposition.” Regime change in Iran, Syria, or Egypt will not produce democracy because the inheritors of power will crush their opponents. The Madisonian particularist argument has historical purchase. It also reads as more sweeping than the historical record can fully bear, since loyal opposition as a stable institutional achievement is rare even in the Anglo-American tradition and required a civil war to consolidate.
The Fragility section at 12:48 to 18:17 carries the most carefully worked treatment Wax has given the traumatology theme. She traces the harm principle to John Stuart Mill (1806-1873) and notes how progressives inverted it by subjectivizing harm. The heckler’s veto framing returns, this time more crisply at 14:53. The honest moment comes at 17:35 when she acknowledges that some traumatology claims have empirical merit. She cites Jonathan Haidt’s screen-time work as a case where harm to adolescents is documented and the conservative impulse should support the traumatology framing. The line between bogus and legitimate harm claims is, in her own words, a challenge. That admission is missing from the Gray version and improves the argument.
The Feminization section at 18:37 to 22:18 gives the empirical anchor that the Gray version lacked. The Corey Clark research at 20:10 is the citation. Clark, formerly at Penn and now at New College of Florida, has produced studies showing that men and women in academia assign different average priorities to truth-seeking versus victim-protection. Women academics, on average, more often favor suppression of speech they deem dangerous. This finding rests on serious empirical work. The leap from the finding to Wax’s larger claim, that women have imported nursery values into the grown-up institution and to negative effect, is still a leap. The data covers stated priorities. The institutional-ruin claim covers outcomes. Bridging the gap requires an argument Wax does not fully give. The citation is more careful than her earlier presentations of the thesis.
The Trump critique at 22:33 to 36:50 is the most original political content in the talk. Wax votes Republican and considers voting Democrat unthinkable. She breaks with movement conservatism on the anti-semitism focus. Her four points are clean. First, anti-semitism is too vague as a legal concept. Second, going after it requires compromising free expression. Third, it engages the traumatology framework, where Jewish students’ upset feelings become the basis for university action. That framework has been used against her and will be used against more conservatives. The line at 28:37 carries the strategic weight: the structure of the arguments used to punish pro-Palestinian protesters is the same structure used to punish her, and conservatives mortgage their own free-speech protections every time they cheer the prosecution. Fourth, race should be the focus given Students for Fair Admissions and continued affirmative action defiance. Her 29:17 test is sharp: “is it good for conservatives?” The frame echoes the dinner-table test her parents used about Jews.
The Hart-Cellar repeal proposal at 35:14 is the most aggressive policy claim in the talk. Wax names the 1964 immigration act and calls for its full repeal and replacement. She frames the 1924-1964 window at 35:41 as American “glory days” of near-zero immigration. This places her in restrictionist territory shared with Brimelow and the VDARE crowd she defended to Gray. The 1924 Johnson-Reed Act she implicitly endorses had explicit national-origin quotas favoring Northern European immigration. Wax does not say this. The position implies it.
The Apollo 13 riff at 36:27 is the speech’s most provocative rhetorical moment. White men with buzzcuts and pocket protectors put a man on the moon without diversity. The standard response, that diverse teams might have done better, Wax mocks: “if they’d had diversity, they would have put 10.” The riff might not survive a careful interviewer. It survives here because the audience is friendly. The argument compresses a serious empirical question about team composition and innovation into a single anecdote and a sneer. The serious version of the argument, that early NASA succeeded under conditions current diversity-management practice now forbids, is defensible. The riff version is not.
The closing on Jewish cultural power at 37:32 is the riskiest move in the speech. Wax says Jews “punch above their weight” and sometimes “abuse the power they have over the culture.” She frames this as a critique she made on the Loury podcast and stands by. The framing places her in tension with mainstream Jewish institutional opinion and uses language that more obviously anti-semitic frames also use. Wax distances herself from the conspiracy-theoretic version at 25:32 by calling that “kind of obsessiveness… anti-semitism on the right.” She names a left version too. Her own position sits between the two: the empirical claim of disproportionate cultural influence with a normative critique of how it is sometimes exercised. The structural pattern echoes Turner on heterodox figures: the dissenter must perform the dissent without quite owning the most damning version.
A few framing observations.
The Three F’s framework gives the most analytically useful contribution from the three pieces taken together. Falsehood is the empirical layer. Fragility is the procedural layer. Feminization is the cultural layer. Each produces censorship through a different route, and the three reinforce each other. The framework gives the woke apparatus more analytical depth than the simple coalition-extraction account from Pinsof might on its own.
The Trump critique is the move that distinguishes Wax from movement conservatives who treat the anti-semitism executive orders as a win. Her structural argument is correct. Cheering the prosecution of speech you dislike trains the institutional capacity that will then be used against speech you favor. The argument tracks the classic free-speech-fundamentalist position from the ACLU’s old guard and from Glenn Greenwald-type critics on the left. Wax brings it into a conservative venue and asks her own coalition to apply its principles consistently. This is the kind of intra-coalition critique that costs allies and rarely shifts policy. She makes it anyway.
The Jewish cultural power passage and the Apollo 13 riff are the two moments where Wax’s polemical confidence outruns her supporting argument. The Cofnas conversation criticized Hanania for treating downstream symptoms as causes. The Gray interview compressed the female-influx story into a single cause. Here the Hart-Cellar repeal proposal and the Jewish cultural power closing both compress contested historical and empirical questions into one-line verdicts. The same pattern Wax names in others appears in her own work when the subject is congenial. This does not invalidate the argument. It identifies the place where the argument is weakest and where critics will press hardest.
The closing line about Jewish power in the universities, media, and finance is also the line where Wax sounds most like the figures she might not want to be grouped with. The structural critique she could make, that any group with disproportionate cultural influence will be tempted to mistake its own preferences for the cultural default, is defensible and applicable to many groups. The Jewish framing tracks a longer historical genealogy and carries freight she does not address. The choice to make the argument in those terms rather than the more general structural ones is a choice. Whether it advances her cause or burns capital her other arguments need is the strategic question her allies might ask.

‘Encounter Book Gala 2025: Amy L. Wax Receives the Jeane Kirkpatrick Prize’ (Oct. 23, 2025)

The Encounter Books gala on October 23, 2025 gives Wax a different speech act than the Restoration Podcast interview. The interview was diagnostic. The acceptance speech is ritual. Randall Collins (b. 1941) on interaction ritual chains predicts what happens here. The Jeane Kirkpatrick (1926-2006) Prize, the gala, the standing ovations, the Hamilton (1755-1804) and Burke and Lincoln (1809-1865) quotes charge the coalition’s emotional energy. Wax converts her professional injuries into shared moral capital for the people in the room.
Ilya Shapiro (b. 1977) does the framing. He builds the cancellation narrative cleanly: the 2017 op-ed, the bourgeois virtues line, the immigrants-from-similar-cultures conference comment, the manufactured charges, the Penn faculty senate process. His sharpest detail at 4:33: “the last time that Penn had acted to get rid of a tenur professor, it was because he had killed his wife.” The comparison does institutional work. The DEI regime polices speech more aggressively than Penn historically policed uxoricide.
Shapiro reads a student evaluation at 5:13: “I think the law school should provide a better classroom space for those taking this or any wax course given the public scrutiny placed on her and those who would dare enroll in her class. It felt as though we were on display for others to observe, akin to some zoo exhibition.” Turner’s tacit knowledge frame fits. The official policy permits academic freedom. The tacit policy puts Wax in a fishbowl. The students who enroll learn the tacit lesson alongside the explicit one.
Wax opens with the faculty senate’s invented charge at 9:57: “inequitably targeted disrespect.” Pinsof’s alliance theory handles this. The phrase does not need to make logical sense. It needs to do coalition work. “Inequitably targeted” signals the protected groups. “Disrespect” expands punishable conduct beyond fact-claims into affect. Turner on convenient beliefs covers the rest. The phrase emerges because the coalition needs a charge that fits the situation, and the faculty senate produces what the moment requires.
The bow tie surgeon at 11:37 is sharp social ethnography. The colleague who finally asks how she is doing. The implied background of Pen Med pretending she does not exist. Becker on hero systems works in the negative here. The colleagues defend their position by treating Wax as a non-person. Acknowledging her becomes coalition treason.
Wax’s central question at 12:33: “How can we be right and fortified in our conviction of being right and still maintain the spirit that is not too sure of it is right?” She quotes Learned Hand (1872-1961) on the spirit of liberty. The question is the conservative tradition’s standing problem. Burke handled it through tradition and prejudice in his inherited-custom sense. Oakeshott handled it through skepticism toward rationalism. Wax tries to handle it through tolerance, which is a thinner answer.
The James Madison (1751-1836) reference to faction at 13:26 is standard founder ritual. The Lincoln “bonds of affection” passage at 16:21 does the same work. These are not arguments. They are coalition incantations. The conservative legal coalition draws its emotional energy from this canon. The references confirm membership and signal seriousness to the room.
The Heckler’s veto and harm principle passage at 18:22 is the speech’s strongest analytical moment. Wax names what the progressive coalition does and refuses to name. At 18:54: “the heckler’s veto has acquired new power through the clever extension of the harm principle. Mill’s idea that the regulation of speech is only justified to prevent injury to others. But by invoking a listener’s mental and psychological distress from the content of speech, the enemies of free expression have weaponized the harm principle and extended it to shut down objectionable ideas.” John Stuart Mill (1806-1873) carries the weight. The progressive coalition retains his harm principle while quietly reading “harm” to include affective distress at speech content. The coalition does not announce the redefinition. The redefinition does the work tacitly. Once Wax names it, she has done something her opponents resist: she makes the tacit explicit.
The “why do you stay” passage at 20:46 turns to the Burke and Jewish covenant material. Wax reads Burke on “those who are dead, those who are living, and those who are yet to be born.” The Jewish bris that her parents understood as binding past to future. Becker on hero systems again. The intergenerational covenant gives Wax her immortality project. Penn’s discipline is a small price inside the project. The covenant frame turns the suspension into a vocation that has meaning rather than a personal injury that has costs.
Two observations on this move. First, the Burkean covenant works for Wax because she stands inside a tradition with content. Her Jewish identity, her conservative constitutional thought, her Penn classroom carry inherited substance. The progressive coalition has rejected the covenant frame, which leaves it without intergenerational grounding. The coalition depends on novelty and present moral urgency. That dependence shows up in the brittle “inequitably targeted disrespect” charge, which has no precedent and cannot reach beyond the moment. Second, the covenant frame does Pinsof work too. Wax signals firm coalition membership in the conservative legal world. The Burke and bris pairing tells the gala audience exactly what coalition she belongs to. The coalition responds with applause, donations, and the Kirkpatrick Prize.
The closing letters do interesting work. The father from southern Georgia at 24:10 who thanks her for affecting his son. The former student from Cincinnati at 24:53 whose pastor father has shunned him. The student letter contains a phrase worth attention: “I learned that culture shapes destinies far more than welfare checks ever could. I learned that there is no magic dirt.” “No magic dirt” is the immigration-skeptic position smuggled into a feel-good closing. Wax knows what she is doing. She closes with a Hamilton quote from Federalist No. 1 about ambition lurking behind specious zeal for the rights of the people. The room hears the application without her making it.
A few framework observations beyond the speech. The acceptance speech and the podcast interview are different products of the same coalition position. The interview gave a Restoration Podcast audience a structural account suitable for thinking conservatives. The speech gives an Encounter Books audience a covenant account suitable for donors. The two performances fit. Wax adjusts the moral register without changing the underlying claims. Coalition members operate in different speech registers depending on the ritual context.
The “inequitably targeted disrespect” charge might be the most useful single artifact in the speech for analytical work. The phrase is invented, vague, and unfalsifiable. It functions as the coalition’s all-purpose tool for processing internal dissenters. Compare to the older categories academic discipline used: research misconduct, plagiarism, sexual harassment. Those have content. “Inequitably targeted disrespect” has none. It exists to convict the convicted. Turner’s account of how academic norms become bureaucratic tools fits. The norm starts with content. The bureaucracy hollows the content out. The resulting phrase is pure coalition utility.
The Charlie Kirk (1993-2025) mention at 15:34 is worth noting. Wax cites Ezra Klein (b. 1984) on Kirk’s death. Kirk’s killing in September 2025 was recent at the time of the gala. Wax uses the moment to fold political violence into her tolerance argument. The gesture is striking from the right because Klein sits outside her coalition. She reads the line because Klein got something right and she credits a progressive on a point she believes. The gesture models the tolerance she advocates.
One last thought. Wax in her 70s frames the persistence question: “Why do you stay in the academy? Why persist?” The candid answer might acknowledge that retirement would forfeit the case. The disciplinary action is in motion. Penn wants her gone. Leaving on Penn’s terms concedes the institution’s framing. The covenant answer is true. The strategic answer sits underneath it. The interview was more candid about costs and stakes. The gala speech sublimates them into vocation.

‘Bourgeois Values (ft. Amy Wax)’ (Dec. 16, 2025)

The American Reformer interview on December 16, 2025 puts Wax in a third room. American Reformer is a Protestant conservative outlet. Timon Cline hosts. The audience knows the AngloProtestant tradition as inheritance rather than as analytical category. Wax adjusts the register again. She becomes more explicit on race as causal driver, more candid on senior faculty cowardice, more direct on first-world preservation as project. The shift across her three appearances tracks the coalition each room represents.
Wax opens with the standard recap of her case: Penn, suspended at half pay, the “extra mural statements” that Dean Ted Ruger turned into “behavioral violations.” At 3:14 she lists what got her in trouble: “to defend bourgeois values and the 1950s to say that not all cultures are equal and preparing people to function in sophisticated societies to point out that there are gaps and disparities in academic achievements between blacks and whites and other races and other indices of success that men and women are not the same.” The list functions as her signature. The same sentences might land her in the same trouble at any elite law school.
The “inequitably targeted disrespect” formulation reappears at 5:03 with sharper translation: “if you say bad things about white people or western civ or Trump voters. That’s okay, right? That’s fine. uh but not the uh coddled uh cossitted special minorities.” The asymmetry is Pinsof’s alliance signaling at the institutional level. The faculty senate’s protected categories are coalition-defined. Reverse the directionality and the rule disappears.
The 2015 cutoff at 6:39 is the most precise dating she has offered: “Today I was in my office trying to go through all my materials, do kind of a clean out and I excavated these piles of papers and uh I don’t know materials, books, articles uh from before 2015. I’m going to I’m going to say 2015. Uh and I was just struck at how different they were.” Turner on tacit knowledge fits cleanly. Pre-2015 academia operated under tacit norms permitting debate on race, affirmative action, same-sex marriage, the test gap. The norms shifted between roughly 2014 and 2017. She names Obergefell v. Hodges at 7:50 as a marker. Once the Court closed the question, the coalition closed the discourse. The same pattern shows up across topics: a definitive ruling, cultural settlement, then taboo enforcement.
Cline asks the structural question at 17:19: true believers or opportunists. Wax’s answer at 24:01 is the cleanest formulation she has given on coalition identity: “to be a good person, to be an elite, to be part of this sector, this uh stratum, this community, you must be a Democrat. You must be on the left, right? I mean, Republicans are viewed as these kind of knuckle dragging, repulsive, bizarre, almost evil people.” Pinsof’s alliance theory in plain English. Coalition membership and moral standing are the same thing inside the elite stratum. Sincerity and opportunism do not separate. The sincere belief is “I am a good person, therefore I am a Democrat,” and the opportunism is treating dissenters as defectors.
Her 2001 hiring story at 25:10 is useful biographical material. The female faculty at Penn opposed her appointment because “I was not part of the sisterhood.” She came in anyway because the male faculty of an older classically liberal generation backed her. That generation, she notes at 26:19, is “practically gone.” Becker on hero systems handles the generational shift. The classically liberal male professoriate had a hero system that valued open inquiry as part of Western inheritance. The replacement generation has a hero system that values group representation. The two cannot coexist on the same faculty for long.
The personal theory of woke at 19:35 is the boldest passage in the interview: “what this all boils down to race because we have in this country had, you know, this black population that with the enactment of civil rights laws in the 60s, the demise of Jim Crow in the 50s, they were supposed to catch up and become equal to everyone else. That has not happened.” Turner on convenient beliefs covers what comes next. The expected outcome did not arrive. The coalition needs an explanation. Structural racism and systemic racism are the convenient beliefs that absorb the gap. The alternative explanations are taboo. The coalition therefore intensifies the convenient belief over time as the gap persists. This is a cleaner causal account than “wokeness as ideology” because it grounds the ideology in a recurring frustration that demands explanation.
Moynihan’s 1965 report fits here as the path-not-taken. He offered an explanation that pointed inward at family structure. The coalition rejected the explanation as victim-blaming. Wax’s law students sixty years later have never heard of the report. The coalition selected the convenient belief and built the curriculum around it.
The Hitler’s revenge passage at 31:52 is striking: “70 years later, Hitler is finally succeeding in destroying Western society and Western Europe… Because people are so crazed about the possibility that X is going to lead straight to, you know, the camps, to genocide, to eradication of minorities. They’re they’re so paranoid about that that they won’t even defend their own countries and their own values and their own societies.” Becker on hero systems applies. The post-1945 hero system in the West treats anti-fascism as the master moral commitment. Any defense of national continuity, immigration restriction, or cultural preservation triggers the master commitment. Wax’s frame inverts the rhetoric: the master commitment becomes the destroyer because it forbids the maintenance work any society requires.
The Woodrow Wilson (1856-1924) reference at 29:17 connects to Turner. Wax names progressive epistemology directly: “if we just all get educated and we we understand the real issues and the facts, we will all come to a consensus. we will all be on the same page as we will all agree.” Madison’s faction theory rejects the premise. Wilson’s progressive lineage rests on it. The progressive coalition cannot tolerate persistent disagreement because persistent disagreement contradicts their epistemology. The dissenter must be either uneducated or evil. The dissenter must be removed. The Penn faculty senate runs on Wilsonian premises and the proceeding against Wax follows logically.
The Roger Scruton (1944-2020) reference at 44:48 invokes oikophilia, the love of home, as the conservative sentiment. The transcript garbles it as “oakilia… Brutan.” Scruton’s frame fits Wax’s project. She is defending a particular home against people who claim the home is just real estate.
The tech bros passage at 43:35 offers the structural reading of where intellectual life now lives: “all of these tech bros and kind of Silicon Valley types… they certainly you know can’t they don’t have a home in the university anymore. The university is openly hostile to them. So a lot of this intellectual activity, most of it is taking place online or outside the university. The university has become this dead gray zone.” The exodus is Pinsof in motion. The intellectual coalition that once aligned with academic institutions has reformed outside them. The university kept its credentialing power but lost its monopoly on intellectual life. The split has consequences. Status credentialing happens in one place. Real intellectual work happens in another. The gap between them widens.
Wax names a tension at 44:30 worth marking. The new intellectual right combines empirical openness with traditionalist commitments. “You’re trying to maintain a kind of stable sector that both honors tradition uh and continuity and you know uniformity even but at the same time is willing to talk openly and empirically about reality.” The combination is unstable, as she notes. The empirical openness threatens any inherited tradition because empirical findings might overturn traditional commitments. The traditionalism threatens empirical openness because some findings might be too disruptive to inherited arrangements. Whether the new right can hold the combination is an open question.
The Daniel Di Martino reference at 51:38 frames third-worldism through public spaces. Litter, disorder, menacing figures, vandalism, graffiti, the sense that public space is for individual gratification rather than shared maintenance. The Zurich and Munich comparison at 52:49 is the standard “why don’t we have nice things” argument. Wax pushes the answer at 53:55: “Everybody wants nice things. But what they don’t realize is how much work and how much sacrifice and how much vigilance it takes to have nice things.” The hero system claim again. Nice things require sustained collective discipline. The coalition that runs the country has rejected the disciplines that nice things require while continuing to expect the things.
The senior faculty cowardice passage at 37:08 is the angriest passage in the interview. Wax reports that senior academics privately sympathize and publicly stay silent. “I think it’s a combination of you know cowardice and selfishness profound selfishness because they give no thought to the students who are coming after them.” Turner on academic norms applies. The classical norms presupposed an obligation to students and to inquiry. The current norms presuppose no such obligation. The senior faculty have inherited the prestige and the salary while abandoning the obligations that produced both. Wax’s anger is not principally at the woke administrators. Her anger is at her tenured peers who keep the rewards and dodge the duties.
Three observations beyond hers.
The race-as-master-variable account at 19:35 is the boldest of the three appearances. The American Reformer audience is the audience most willing to hear it. The Encounter Books audience might have heard it in covenant terms. The Restoration Podcast audience might have heard it in structural terms. The American Reformer audience hears it directly. Audience composition shapes which causal accounts speakers can offer in plain language. The taboo gradient maps the coalition gradient.
Second, the lawsuit at 54:48 is the new development. Wax is suing Penn. She is acting as her own co-counsel. The pattern fits the Glacier View precedent her father lived through. The institution disciplines the insider. The insider takes the institution to public legal accountability. The institution loses the privacy of its internal proceedings. Whether courts can produce remedies for academic discipline is a different question. The lawsuit does coalition work even if it produces no legal remedy. It refuses to let Penn close the proceeding behind tenure committee doors.
The line that survives the interview comes at 40:00. “Love of truth is the faintest of human passions.” Wax attributes it to A.E. Housman (1859-1936) via John Derbyshire (b. 1945). The line is a counter to any optimism about reform. Human institutions do not produce love of truth. They cultivate it against the standing inclinations of the people who staff them. The cultivating culture, she says, was AngloAmerican Protestant. That culture has weakened. The institutions that lived on it cannot produce its replacement. The question Wax leaves unanswered is whether the love of truth survives the culture that grew it.

‘The Bias against Conservatism in Higher Education | Amy Wax’ (Mar. 8, 2026)

The Brain in a Vat conversation gives Wax a less skeptical interlocutor than Loury and produces a different performance. The host pushes her on principle, not on overreach. The result is a tighter, more programmatic Wax. She runs the case for academic freedom as an absolute, makes a narrow exception for incitement-adjacent speech, and uses the symmetry argument as her main weapon: if you can’t punish antisemitic protest, you can’t punish her.
She opens with the Penn account. The procedural framing does most of the work. Her dean Ted Ruger gets the central villain role: “a very spineless, weak, uh, member of the nomenklatura” (4:08-4:10). She pegs his definitional move as the giveaway: “Seeing anything critical about a group to which any student belongs is discrimination” (4:50-4:55). She then runs the kangaroo-court line: a faculty senate dredging fabricated complaints from fifteen years ago, suspending her for a year at half pay, stripping her chair, banning her from her office. Hillsdale picks her up. Penn pays her to do nothing.
The symmetry move comes next, and it carries the legal claim in her lawsuit. After October 7th, faculty and students at Penn made statements about Zionists and Jews that the university refused to discipline, citing academic freedom. Wax: “If you say, you know, negative things about sacred protected minorities like blacks, you get punished. If you say negative things about Jews, you don’t get punished” (8:03-8:14). She frames this as a Title VI violation. The argument has rhetorical force whether or not it has legal force. It locks the university into a dilemma: discipline the antisemitism cases and lose the academic-freedom defense, or admit the double standard.
Her free-speech absolutism goes further than the standard right position. She rejects the Trump administration’s antisemitism initiatives: “I am not a fan of Trump’s focus on… I have not been a fan of their initiatives against anti-semitism” (10:33-10:47). She refuses the trauma frame even when deployed on her side of the line: “this notion of psychological harm from having to hear ideas that are upsetting to you or that you don’t like, we cannot indulge that argument” (13:25-13:46). The position is consistent. She wants the rule that protects her to protect the people she finds repulsive, because she sees that the rule punishing them ends up punishing her.
The narrow exception she allows is genocide advocacy at private universities. She thinks Liz Magill (b. 1966) might still have her job had Penn announced a slightly stricter rule than the First Amendment requires. Wax states this with hesitation: “I’m a little uncomfortable with that as a principle… If I were in charge, I would probably say, you know, we have to tolerate it as repulsive as it is because the counter for speech is more speech” (39:38-40:06). She gives the host the principle and then walks back from it.
Her best argument comes on diversity. The standard line says identity diversity produces intellectual diversity. Wax inverts it: “the emphasis on identity diversity has produced and enforced an orthodoxy in the universities because, when combined with this sort of emphasis on, you know, psychological trauma and harm, it means that you can’t say anything that anybody in any group will object to” (22:07-22:25). The move earns her the seat. She names the perverse result and connects it to the trauma frame she rejected earlier. Identity representation plus protected feelings equals enforced orthodoxy.
The gendered analysis is where she goes furthest and where the argument frays. Helen Andrews (b. 1986) argues that academic feminization explains wokeness through traits Andrews codes as feminine: rumor, indirection, conformity enforcement through social punishment. Nathan Cofnas (b. 1988) replies that all-male Harvard in the 1750s ran the same speech codes and rituals of expulsion, so the gender story misidentifies the cause. Wax wants to keep both. She concedes Cofnas: men instigate, men lead. She keeps Andrews: women enforce, women conform. Then she adds her own piece: “illiberalism and, uh, you know, intolerance of wide open debate and sparring that goes along with the free speech culture, that is a little bit more appealing to women just per se” (48:46-49:00). The claim sits exposed because the Cofnas point does the work she keeps trying to bypass. If 1750s Harvard ran the same enforcement architecture without women, the architecture is not gendered. She pays Cofnas the compliment of taking his essay seriously and then keeps the conclusion he refuted.
She closes the gender section with the line that will travel: “men are the authors of civilization, which they truly are, um, and they are the authors of, you know, WEIRD western civilization, and at the heart of that civilization is, you know, reason, rationalism, getting at the truth, getting at reality, accuracy, um, scientific progress… that is primarily a male project” (50:09-50:42). The claim drops without argument and stands as an article of faith inside her broader case.
The race-IQ exchange is where she goes hardest and where Stephen Pinker (b. 1954) gets dragged for hedging. Pinker says don’t go there. Wax says we have to. Her reasoning runs through equity: “we’ve built this whole woke paradigm, this DEI paradigm, at the center of which is equity. And what does equity mean? It means that every position in society has to be occupied proportionally by the people who live in society” (1:02:04-1:02:22). If the equity premise drives policy and the IQ data gets suppressed, the policy runs on a falsehood and produces the suspicion that any disparity in outcomes signals discrimination. The diagnosis matches the one Murray gives in Facing Reality. The unanswered question is the one Loury raised in the 2021 conversation: what does an honest accounting of the gap produce politically that is better than the suppression?
Wax’s answer is acceptance modeled on her own posture toward gender gaps in physics: “Do I lose any sleep over the fact that 50% of the Harvard physics department will never be women?… No, I don’t think about it” (1:05:14-1:05:28). The analogy carries her case for her, but it elides the asymmetry she has spent the whole interview making elsewhere. Sex differences in interest and ability sit inside an institutional regime that is no longer trying to engineer proportional representation by sex. Race differences sit inside a regime that runs on the equity premise. The analogy works only if you have already won the political fight.
The interview shows Wax at her sharpest on procedure and her weakest on metaphysics. The Penn account is precise. The free-speech analysis is consistent. The diversity-orthodoxy point is well made. The gender claims and the closing acceptance argument depend on premises she does not defend.

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Amy Wax & Nathan Cofnas: The Parallels & Differences

Both began as careful technical scholars and ended as public polemicists treated as discredited within their original institutional homes. The shape of the trajectory is the shared fact. The substantive content of the turn, the timing, and the institutional response differ.
Both started inside disciplinary norms. The 2004 Wax stereotype threat piece looks like the work she could have continued for thirty years. Cofnas’s early work in philosophy of biology was tight, methodologically conservative, focused on narrow questions about evolutionary epistemology and the ethics of belief. Both could have sustained ordinary academic careers. Neither did.
Both moved into race and group differences as the gravitational center. Wax through cultural and family-structure framing. Cofnas through explicit hereditarianism. Both treated their respective claims as empirical matters being suppressed by coalition discipline rather than contested by reasonable people. Both came to see the suppression as the corruption to be addressed. Once you frame the situation that way, restraint becomes complicity, and the public op-ed or Substack post becomes a moral act.
Both lost institutional standing. Penn stripped Wax of her named chair in 2023. Emmanuel College sacked Cofnas in January 2024. Both invoked academic freedom in defense. Both built parallel public profiles that compensated for the institutional losses. The career math worked because the alternative coalition pays in attention, ally networks, and existential meaning. Both stepped into a market for figures willing to say what the mainstream would not.
Both produced procedural-defense pieces after the institutional sanctions. Wax’s February and March 2018 WSJ pieces. Cofnas’s various Substack posts after the Cambridge dismissal. The pattern repeats. Make the substantive claim. Take the institutional hit. Reframe the institutional hit as proof of the substantive claim. The reframing requires that the institution not release the data, refute the argument, or otherwise engage the merits. Both institutions obliged.
Where they diverge.
Career stage. Wax was a tenured chaired professor at peak career status when she made the turn. The institutional cushion was thick. She could survive Penn’s sanctions and continue receiving a salary. Cofnas was on a fixed-term junior fellowship. He had less institutional capital to spend and lost most of it in one stroke. The turn cost him more relative to his starting position.
Substantive frame. Wax’s primary register was cultural and behavioral. She named family structure, work habits, and parenting as causes of group differences. She left biology implicitly available but did not lead with it. Cofnas led with hereditarianism as the explicit position. He treats the biological hypothesis as the intellectually defensible default. The difference shapes how each is received. Cultural arguments allow more room for disagreement. Hereditarian arguments collapse the room.
Intellectual lineage. Wax draws on the legal-economic tradition, Sowell, Murray, Gary Becker (1930-2014). Cofnas draws on philosophy of science and hereditarian psychology, Lynn, Jensen, and Charles Murray. Murray runs through both lineages, which is part of how the right-wing coalition coheres across legal academia and philosophy. The lineages overlap at the Murray node and diverge from there.
Style and venue. Wax operates in television and 2017 op-ed registers. Performance. Cofnas operates in long-form Substack and academic-philosophical registers. Argument. Wax leans more rhetorical. Cofnas leans more analytic. The styles fit the audiences.
Generation and digital speed. Wax came up in pre-internet legal academia and made her name there. Her turn took thirteen years from the 2004 piece to the 2017 2017 op-ed. Cofnas was native to the Substack and podcast economy. His turn ran faster, compressed across a few years. The infrastructure shapes the trajectory.
Identity and self-positioning. Cofnas has foregrounded his Jewish identity as part of his project, writing explicitly on what he calls the Jewish question and arguing that Jews have disproportionate influence in the suppression of hereditarian arguments. Wax does not foreground her Jewishness in this way. The Cofnas move is risky and connects him to a discourse that has historically run through more dangerous territory. Wax has not gone there.
Legal outcomes. Cofnas got a partial legal vindication in March 2026. The Peterborough County Court recognized hereditarianism as a protected philosophical belief under the Equality Act 2010 while upholding the college’s severance. The ruling produced a precedent of institutional value to the broader coalition. Wax has had no comparable legal moment. Penn’s processes have run through internal academic governance, which favors institutional discretion.
Cofnas has lost more standing within mainstream philosophy than Wax has lost within mainstream legal academia, because philosophy enforces tighter coalitional discipline than legal academia does. Within the alternative coalition, both function as canonical figures whose institutional sanctions confirm the coalition’s diagnosis.
The coalition pull is real. The frustration with mainstream silence on empirical questions is real. The personality profile selects for low risk-aversion, willingness to alienate colleagues, and confidence that one’s contested claims are simply true. Both Wax and Cofnas fit the profile. Many quieter scholars share their views and decline to make the turn. The turn is a choice, and the people who make it tend to share temperament more than they share intellectual position.
Both trajectories show what happens when a scholar prioritizes a substantive claim over institutional belonging. Institutions select for restraint. Public coalitions select for boldness. The two reward systems pull in opposite directions. Once a scholar moves from one reward system to the other, the trajectory tends to look like Wax’s or Cofnas’s. The personalities differ. The shape rhymes.

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A Literary Analysis Of Amy Wax

Amy Wax’s prose changes more than her positions do. Reading the forty-plus pieces in sequence shows a writer whose convictions stay roughly stable from 1996 through 2026 while her relationship to the page, the reader, and the academy shifts in ways the prose registers before the biography does.
The early Wax of the mid-to-late 1990s writes long sentences. The 1996 review of Robert Wright builds paragraphs through accumulation. Subordinate clauses qualify subordinate clauses. The reader has to hold three or four moves in mind before the sentence resolves. The voice is patient. It assumes a reader who will follow because the argument earns the following. The “Two-Parent Family in the Liberal State” essay from the same year reads in the same idiom: doctrinal exposition, careful glossing of cases, models built up through stages. She names her interlocutors. She engages their positions at length. She concedes points as she goes. Her preferred move is the qualifier that doesn’t retreat. “This may be true, but it does not entail what its proponents claim it entails.” The sentence does work and pays its costs.
The 1998 Bargaining in the Shadow of the Market runs 163 pages because the argument needs every page. The piece reads as a dissertation in disguise. Wax distrusts the shortcut. If a model has five steps, she walks the reader through five steps. If a counterargument has three forms, she addresses all three. The footnotes do real work: they cite, they qualify, they extend. A reader trained in the period will recognize the form. It is the register of legal scholarship at its most ambitious, when the goal is to publish something that other law professors will have to engage for a decade.
The voice in this period is third-person impersonal. Wax does not say “I.” She says “this Article argues” or “the position defended here.” The persona is the law-review author as such, anonymous in her style even when distinctive in her conclusions. She is writing within the conventions of her field and accepting their constraints because the conventions still confer authority she wants to claim.
What runs underneath the careful prose is already what will surface later. Her 1996 review of Wright already contains the civilizational pessimism. Her 1996 piece on the two-parent family already names elite hypocrisy. Her 1998 marriage piece already treats women’s choices as adaptations to durable structural asymmetries that formal equality cannot dissolve. The substantive Wax is in place. The literary Wax is still wearing institutional clothing.
The mature law-and-economics period from roughly 1999 through 2005 produces her most accomplished prose. The 1999 Discrimination as Accident, the 2000 Expressive Law and Oppressive Norms, the 2002 Something for Nothing, the 2003 Disability, Reciprocity, and Real Efficiency. The sentences shorten slightly. The architecture grows clearer. She begins using a recurring rhetorical move: state the conventional wisdom, accept whatever in it deserves acceptance, then mark precisely where it fails. The move requires confidence on both sides of the qualification. Wax has it.
The 2002 Something for Nothing is the point at which her prose acquires an unmistakable signature. The signature has three elements. The first is the willingness to name a tension other writers handle by smoothing. Liberal egalitarianism wants compassion without distinguishing the contributor from the dependent. Wax says it cannot have both. The second is the use of moral psychology as a tool against pure normative argument. She pulls Joseph Henrich-style evolutionary findings into welfare theory and lets them do work that Rawlsian (1921-2002) constructions cannot. The third is a refusal of the conciliatory closing. Most law review articles close by gesturing toward future work or proposing modest reforms. Wax closes by stating what the analysis has shown and stopping. The discipline of the ending shapes the discipline of everything that precedes it.
The middle period also brings her into recognizable command of an extended technical argument that builds across multiple pieces. The reciprocity work, the disability work, the welfare work, the family work all share an institutional logic. By the time she writes the 2007 Engines of Inequality, she does not need to rebuild the framework on each occasion. She references it with a sentence and moves on. The economy of reference is itself a literary achievement. It signals a writer who has built an apparatus and now uses it.
In this period she also begins to allow herself sentences that would have been suppressed in the apprentice work. Sentences with rhetorical force. Sentences that name elite practices in language elite practitioners would resent. The 2007 piece on family inequality contains the observation that the men and women who staff the universities and foundations advocating for the deinstitutionalization of marriage do not, in their own lives, deinstitutionalize marriage. The sentence is not new in 2007. The sentence is new in Wax.
The synthesis period that runs from about 2005 through 2011 is the period of her most consequential academic publications. The 2010 Diverging Family Structure, the 2011 Disparate Impact Realism, and the 2008 The Discriminating Mind belong here. The prose grows more confident still. She no longer bothers concealing her surprise at what her critics will not concede. The qualifier that doesn’t retreat acquires a sharper edge. She is increasingly willing to write sentences that read as findings rather than as proposals. Disparate Impact Realism is the cleanest example. The article proceeds as if the empirical claims are simply true and the doctrinal accommodations have to be made around them. A 1996 Wax might have spent ten pages defending the empirical claims before drawing doctrinal conclusions. The 2011 Wax assumes the reader has done the reading.
The change is partly a matter of fatigue. She has been making these arguments for fifteen years. The audience that wants to hear them has heard them. The audience that does not want to hear them has not been moved by repetition. So she compresses the foundation and extends the application. The literary effect is a prose that feels surer of itself, perhaps too sure for a reader who comes to the work fresh. Her early work brings the reader along. Her middle work assumes the reader has caught up.
The combative academic period from roughly 2011 through 2017 shows the prose under new pressures. The Poverty of the Neuroscience of Poverty in 2017, the Stereotype Threat chapter, the implicit bias work. The texts read as critique of fields rather than engagement with arguments. Where the 1999 Discrimination as Accident engages the unconscious bias literature as a coherent intellectual project worth taking seriously, the 2017 neuroscience piece treats the field as a case study in modern academic overreach. The shift is a literary one before it is a political one. The move from interlocutor to anatomist changes the shape of every paragraph.
The sentences shorten further. The footnotes thin. The willingness to grant opponents their best case diminishes. The patience that defined the early prose has run out. The writing keeps its argumentative discipline but loses some of its generosity.
The 2017 op-ed on bourgeois norms is the public turning point but the literary turning point came earlier. By the time of the 2017 op-ed, Wax has already developed the prose habits that make the 2017 op-ed possible. The 2017 op-ed reads as a compressed version of arguments she has been making in long form for two decades. Its critics treat it as a sudden lurch. Its readers in the academy recognize it as the visible surface of work whose underground had been visible for years to anyone reading the law reviews.
The public intellectual period from 2017 through the present brings the largest literary change. The Loury shows, the Cofnas conversation, the Restoration Podcast appearance, the lectures, the responses to media coverage. The prose she writes for these settings is no longer law review prose. It is spoken or speech-adjacent. It is built for audiences that will listen rather than read, and that will signal agreement rather than test the argument.
The change shows in several ways. First, her sentences become more declarative. The qualifier-that-doesn’t-retreat gives way to the assertion that doesn’t qualify. Second, the evidence base loosens. In a law review article she could not say something without a footnote. On a podcast she states findings as widely known. Third, the rhetoric grows polemical in ways the academic work avoided. “Cowardly,” “sophistry,” “bizarre point in our society.” These are not law-review words. They are public-intellectual words, and Wax in 2024 is fluent in them.
Fourth, the persona changes. The 1998 Wax is the law professor as such, anonymous in her style. The 2024 Wax is the dissident, the heterodox figure, the woman who has paid the price for saying what credentialed peers will not say. The persona becomes a content of the work rather than a frame around it. The 2017 2017 op-ed already shows this. By the 2024 podcasts, the persona is the stable through-line, and the substantive arguments come and go around it.
Fifth, her targets specify. The early Wax engages Joel Schwartz, Alan Wolfe (b. 1942), John Rawls, McAdams, Steele. The targets are scholars working in identifiable fields with traceable arguments. The late Wax names categories: “the academy,” “the woke,” “DEI,” “elite progressives.” The category replaces the person. The polemic widens its reach and shallows its grip. A reader who wants to see the argument tested cannot find the specific opponent it targets.
The Loury exchange of December 2021, the Cofnas conversation of 2024, the C-SPAN interview of 2018, the Restoration Podcast of 2024, the Vancouver speech of 2025, the Brain in a Vat interview of 2026: these appearances form a sequence in which the literary persona becomes more confident and more compressed. She knows what her audiences want to hear. She can deliver it without notes. The intellectual labor is increasingly behind her. The performance is increasingly the work.
The trajectory is not unique to Wax. Many academic writers who become public figures undergo a similar literary compression. What is unusual in her case is that the substantive arguments do not change. The 1996 piece on family structure contains, in seed form, the 2017 2017 op-ed on bourgeois culture. The 1998 marriage piece contains, in extended form, the claims about female labor and male obligation she will later restate in shorter, sharper sentences. A reader who tracks the substance through the corpus will find few real surprises. The civilizational pessimism, the institutional realism, the impatience with elite hypocrisy, the suspicion of therapeutic environmentalism: all of these are present early. What changes is how the prose carries them.
The early prose carries them as conclusions of arguments. The late prose carries them as premises of complaints. The first form invites engagement. The second form invites alignment. Different audiences. Different functions. Different rhetorical needs.
A literary judgment, then. Her best prose belongs to the 1999 through 2007 period. Bargaining in the Shadow of the Market, Something for Nothing, Disability, Reciprocity, and Real Efficiency, the 2007 family essay. These pieces reward rereading. The sentences hold up under the pressure of close attention. The arguments build cumulatively. The qualifier-that-doesn’t-retreat does honest work. The reader is treated as an adult capable of following an extended chain of reasoning. The reader is also treated as someone whose disagreement is worth anticipating and addressing.
The public-period prose has its own virtues. It is clearer about what she believes. It costs the reader less. It permits faster identification of agreement or disagreement. It travels well across formats. It has reached audiences her academic work never could. These are real achievements. They come at a literary cost the early work did not have to pay.
The sanctions, the lawsuits, and the institutional pressure of the post-2017 period shape the late prose, but the late prose was already shaping itself before the sanctions arrived. The literary trajectory and the biographical trajectory ran parallel rather than one causing the other. Wax’s prose was already moving toward declaration over argument, persona over position, category over interlocutor, when the institutional pressure arrived and gave her further reasons to move that way. The institutional pressure accelerated a transformation already underway.
She has to keep correcting paraphrases that flatten her actual claims. The flattening is partly the work of careless readers. It is partly the byproduct of a public-facing prose that sacrifices precision for impact. Her academic readers in the 1990s would not have flattened her in the way her public critics now do. They had longer sentences to hold them in check.
The arc has a literary moral worth stating. Confidence is good for prose. Polemical confidence is mixed. The early Wax is confident because she has done the work and knows what it shows. The late Wax is confident because she has paid the cost and feels entitled to the conclusions. The first kind of confidence carries the prose. The second kind risks substituting for it.
If a younger Wax read the late Wax, she might suggest that some of the late assertions get re-grounded in the kind of sustained argument the 1998 Virginia Law Review piece would have demanded. If the late Wax read the early Wax, she might find the prose slow and the qualifications excessive. Both judgments would be partially right. The work she leaves behind will be read in both registers. The academic pieces will hold their place in the legal-academic literature on family, welfare, discrimination, and meritocracy. The public pieces will hold their place in the cultural and political record of a particular moment in American intellectual life. The two records will not be identical. They will not contradict each other. They will rhyme.

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Reading Patrick McKenzie on the SPLC: ‘Defendant, Censor, Politico, Spy’

McKenzie says:

One coalition of non-profit organizations ran an organized pressure campaign against industry, for years. It started in 2017, with the SPLC and another non-profit informally coordinating. It intensified and formalized in 2018, under SPLC co-leadership. It escalated sharply in 2020 and 2021.

The campaign had two main components. The first was public advocacy and communications work. The second, less visible but more consequential, was a series of meetings with industry. Hundreds of meetings. With a specific target set of companies.

The campaign’s declared aims were three. To convince those companies to censor more communications the coalition characterized as hate. To blacklist organizations and individuals the coalition characterized as promulgators of hate or violence. And to interdict the flow of funds to those blacklisted parties.

The coalition claimed to be non-partisan. Be on the lookout for mentions of “non-partisan,” because it is a word the coalition understands differently than I do.

The coalition calls its targets “Internet companies” and relies on government, media, and the public to not read the fine print. In it, they define Internet company mendaciously to include banks, credit card processors, and any other financial infrastructure their enemies could touch. The coalition was going after posts, but it was also and primarily going after money. I will use the language “industry participants” going forward to identify who they met with.

Industry participants included Facebook, Twitter, JPMorgan Chase, Visa, Mastercard, and many other firms. Some were among the largest companies in the world. Others had fewer than 10 employees. (I estimate headcount based on published reporting and industry experience.)

Stripe was an industry participant. I was employed at Stripe continuously from late 2016 through early 2023, covering the entire period under discussion. I remain an active advisor to Stripe. Stripe does not necessarily endorse what I write in my personal spaces.

This series of hundreds of meetings involved hundreds of employees from industry participants. Those employees included C-suite executives and managers and individual contributors across a host of functions. Those functions included communications, legal, government affairs, Trust and Safety, and compliance professionals.

Meeting notes were frequently kept, and sometimes widely circulated, as is the routine practice in industry. The meetings were documented on calendar invites (often with full participant lists), shared docs, attachments, emails, and other contemporaneous records. In the ordinary practice of industry these primary documents distribute themselves promiscuously into secondary documents; think of an email being screenshot to paste into a PowerPoint to discuss the response in a meeting. Records exist on conservatively hundreds of systems and can be accessed by many more than 10,000 people.

No employee of an industry participant I have spoken to, familiar with the contents of the meetings, was willing to provide quotes for publication with their name and corporate affiliation attached.

Their reasoning included not being authorized to disclose private information, fear for their personal and corporate reputation, future career consequences for leaking, personal consequences for being identified adjacent to national political controversies, in some cases fear for their physical safety, and in some cases unwillingness to betray a cause they personally support.

Industry participants recount the tone of the meetings differently, and as varying over the meetings. Some meetings were strained-but-professional. Sometimes the coalition participants were described as demanding and “hectoring.” Industry participants report abusive remarks towards their companies and to the people in the meeting.

Industry participants were repeatedly told that if they did not accede to demands they would be profiting from evil, complicit in the death of innocents, or benefitting from white supremacy. The innocents claimed to be at risk were often specifically identified as black, including during a period of intense societal concern for the lives of black Americans specifically. Industry participants were told that they wanted this. That they were taking “blood money”. Industry participants repeatedly felt personally attacked, in ways and using language not normative in their professional experience.

On the account of multiple industry participants, coalition participants explicitly held individuals in the meeting personally responsible for the actions of their employers. This was aimed at individuals with substantial influence and authority in companies, and also at junior employees.

Industry participants describe the coalition participants as threatening their employers, openly and by implication.

The most commonly described threat was coordinated negative public messaging with the goal of causing reputational harm to the industry participants. Feared comms outcomes ran the gamut from heavy mainstream media coverage to a Twitter pile on. Twitter is real life, particularly when a large and vocal contingent of your employees use it and Slack simultaneously. Ever been pulled into a meeting over a single customer tweet then burn weeks on managing the fallout? Count yourself lucky.

Less commonly, the industry participants perceived they were being threatened with adverse legislative, executive, or regulatory action indirectly by coalition participants who are reasonably read as exercising substantial political influence. Industry participants sometimes report that coalition participants flaunted their political influence.

Industry participants were repeatedly told that if they did not accede to specific demands, they would share the blame for future deaths. Bits about Money has reviewed contemporaneous records which unequivocally make this claim, authored by coalition participants. We note that this echoes language the coalition routinely puts in press releases, Medium posts, and similar artifacts after presumptively careful review of the phrasing. The coalition was inconsistently disciplined in phrasing in documents we have reviewed, and we decline to quote their phrasing, in part, out of charity.

You will share the blame. We will hold you responsible.

Patrick McKenzie has done what the institutional press will not. He names a coalition of tax-exempt charities operating a private intelligence service, documents the conduct in the coalition’s own voice, and publishes with archived primary sources any reader can verify. The piece does not depend on whistleblowers. It depends on the coalition’s annual reports, sworn Congressional testimony, podcast interviews with friendly hosts, and demand letters posted on coalition WordPress sites. The architects narrated their own conduct in venues where they expected applause. McKenzie listened.
The piece reports on the Southern Poverty Law Center’s Intelligence Project and the Change the Terms (CTT) coalition it co-founded with the Center for American Progress in 2018. CTT included Color of Change, Common Cause, Free Press, Global Project Against Hate and Extremism, Muslim Advocates, the National Hispanic Media Coalition, and others. From 2017 through 2023, the coalition ran hundreds of meetings with tech and finance companies, secured policy changes, nominated accounts for termination, and intervened against a declared candidate for the presidency in January 2023.
The story is real and the documentation is solid. Reading the piece against the analytical frameworks I use, several things come into focus.

The financial infrastructure point is the load

Most readers will encounter this as a censorship story. That reading misses the move that makes the operation novel. The coalition’s primary artifact, the Terms, redefines “Internet Companies” to include banks, credit card brands, and any business that moves money through a web or mobile interface. Mastercard predates the commercial Internet by decades. The coalition needed Mastercard inside the tent because the campaign was always primarily about money, not posts.
McKenzie sees this and he is right to lead with the SPLC’s own Congressional testimony from January 2020, in which Lecia Brooks tells the House Financial Services Committee: “A key part of this strategy has been to target these organizations’ funding.”
The shift from speech moderation to payment interdiction is the political innovation of the period. Criminal prosecution requires a state, courts, and constitutional limits. Infrastructural exclusion requires only a coalition with enough moral authority to pressure private gatekeepers. If you can cut someone’s banking, payment processing, hosting, fundraising rails, and discoverability, you do not need to imprison him. He cannot operate. He cannot scale. He cannot reach an audience.
The First Amendment binds the state. Nothing of comparable force binds a coalition of charities pressuring a payment processor. The constitutional novelty is exactly here. Government cannot debank you for protected speech. A coalition that pressures your bank to debank you faces no such limit. The coalition is not the state. The bank is not the state. The constitutional architecture of free expression in the United States assumes that the threat to speech comes from government. The coalition routed around the architecture.
That is the deeper harm. The coalition normalized a regime in which private actors with state-adjacent moral authority decide who gets banking, payment processing, and platform access. The regime persists after CTT has scaled back. The plumbing remains. Donors who funded CTT migrated to adjacent vehicles. Personnel rotate. The map of who gets debanked has not contracted.

The coalition’s sincerity is part of how it worked

A surface reading treats the coalition as cynical operators using “hate” as a pretext for partisan power. That reading is wrong, and being wrong about it leads to bad analysis.
The coalition genuinely felt frightened after Charlottesville and January 6. Many participants believed they were preventing political violence. The fear was real. Stephen Turner’s framework on convenient beliefs explains this. A belief can be both sincere and convenient. The conviction that “speech is inseparable from conduct” is convenient because it licenses censorship as harm prevention. It is also held with felt certainty by the people who articulate it. The convenience does not require dishonesty. The hero system makes the convenience invisible to the believer.
Ernest Becker’s account of hero systems explains why intelligent people inside the coalition could not see what McKenzie sees from outside. When your hero system defines the enemy as cosmic threat to democracy, racial justice, or human dignity, election filings do not transmute the enemy into a candidate. They make him a candidate-shaped threat. Trump was not a candidate to the coalition. He was a hate actor who happened to file FEC paperwork. The coalition’s claim of non-partisanship was not strategic dissembling. It was the natural self-understanding of people whose hero system had defined one half of American politics as outside the bounds of legitimate democratic contest.
This matters because it predicts the durability of the structure. Cynical operators can be dislodged by exposure. Sincere believers cannot. The coalition will reform under new names with new personnel and the same self-understanding. The exposure McKenzie has produced will register inside the coalition as further evidence of attack by the hate actors. Becker calls this the immune logic of hero systems. Threats from outside confirm the heroism of the inside.

The internal-external speech split is interaction ritual product

McKenzie has both the public statements of the coalition and accounts from industry participants of what happened in closed meetings. The two do not match. In meetings, coalition participants told industry employees that they would share blame for future deaths, called industry compensation “blood money,” and identified individuals in the room as personally responsible for the actions of their employers. In published statements, the coalition adopted disciplined language locating agency in industry: the coalition “recommends,” industry adopts the policy, industry enforces what is now industry’s policy.
Randall Collins’s account of interaction ritual chains explains the split. Closed meetings produce emotional energy that bonds coalition participants and licenses moral speech that would embarrass the coalition if printed. The energy is real. The bonds are real. The moral certainty generated by the rituals carries into the next meeting and the next, accumulating across hundreds of encounters. Each meeting reinforces the cosmic stakes. Each meeting raises the threshold for what counts as acceptable industry response. The discipline collapses inside the room because the room is the engine that produces the discipline outside the room.
Industry participants who endured the meetings describe the experience as professionally novel. The tone of moral accusation aimed at junior employees doing compliance work is not how interagency or industry meetings normally proceed. It is how religious confrontation proceeds. The coalition treated the meetings as confrontations with sin. Industry treated them as work. The asymmetry favors the side that thinks the stakes are cosmic.
McKenzie has caught the divergence between internal and external speech. He does not theorize it as ritual product, but the data are there for the reading. The internal speech is the truth of the coalition. The external speech is the cover that makes the internal speech sustainable across the institutional layer between the meetings and the public.
CAP responded because CAP can. The silence of the others is information.
McKenzie reached out fifteen times to ten organizations. One responded. The Center for American Progress provided a statement that minimized its involvement, did not deny signing the letters, did not deny the content of the demands, and reframed the motive as concern for Meta’s “confusing application of its own standards.”
Coalition arithmetic explains the asymmetry. CAP under Neera Tanden (b. 1970) has spent two decades building durable Beltway position. Its alliance network reaches deep into Democratic Party staff infrastructure, the donor class, and friendly press. CAP can afford the cost of engagement because CAP knows its allies will absorb the engagement and recirculate the framing. The smaller members of the coalition cannot. GPAHE is post-SPLC and small. Color of Change is mid-size and exposed. Free Press has a niche policy audience. For these organizations, silence is cheaper than reply. Any reply opens the door to follow-up questions, follow-up reporting, and the kind of accumulating record that produces an indictment.
CAP’s non-denial is itself confirmation of the structure. The letters exist. The signatures exist. The demands exist. CAP cannot deny these things because the documents are public. CAP can only reframe the motive. The reframing concedes the conduct.
Alliance Theory predicts this pattern. Coalition members protect each other through silence and through coordinated reframing when silence is not an option. The defection that would produce real information—a former coalition member explaining the meeting structure on the record—does not occur because the cost of defection is total exclusion from the alliance network. People who work in this sector do not have careers outside it. The coalition is a labor market.
CTT is the artifact. The complex is the structure.
The piece’s analytical limit is that it treats Change the Terms as the story. CTT is downstream of a longer pattern. The Ford Foundation, Open Society Foundations, and a small number of other funders built the donor pipeline that sustains the coalition. The donors fund the NGOs. The NGOs run the meetings with the platforms. The platforms employ trust-and-safety professionals who came up through the same NGO pipeline. The Hill staffers who hold the hearings overlap with NGO alumni. Press coverage of the coalition runs through reporters whose Rolodex is the coalition’s communications team.
Cutting CTT does not cut the coalition’s successors. The donors will fund the next vehicle. The personnel will rotate. The function persists. The relevant unit of analysis is the donor-NGO-platform-press-Hill complex, not any one coalition. The coalition is the visible artifact. The complex is the persistent structure.
This is why the indictment of the SPLC on bank fraud, while legally significant, will not end the regime. The bank fraud charge focuses on whether SPLC misrepresented payment purposes to its bank, which is paperwork rather than policy. The complex that produced SPLC will produce its replacement. The Intelligence Project will be reconstituted under different letterhead. The donor relationships will reattach. The Hill access will resume. McKenzie sees the legal exposure clearly. The structural problem is upstream of any legal exposure.

McKenzie can publish this because his audience can read it

The piece’s commercial position is part of how it became possible. McKenzie writes from inside the fintech and payments world. His readership skews technical, financially literate, libertarian-adjacent, and skeptical of both progressive coalition power and right-wing populism. He has Stripe equity, an advisory relationship with Stripe, and sponsorship revenue from Mercury, Meter, and Granola. His core audience does not overlap the coalition’s donor and staff base.
The institutional press cannot run this story because the institutional press’s core audience does overlap the coalition’s base. The reporters who cover platforms come from beats where the NGOs are sources. The editors who would assign the piece socialize with coalition staff. The advertisers who fund the institutional outlets share boards with coalition donors. The story exists where it does because the audience exists where it does.
This is the deeper story about the contemporary press. Independent operators with their own readership and their own sponsors can do reporting that institutional outlets cannot do, on subjects where the institutional outlet’s alliance network includes the subject of the reporting. McKenzie has independence in part because he never depended on the institutions he is reporting on. The institutional press depends on those institutions for access, sources, advertising, and social standing. The independence McKenzie has is itself a kind of capital.
Whether the piece reaches beyond its existing audience depends on whether mainstream outlets pick it up. Early signs suggest they will not. That outcome itself confirms part of what McKenzie has documented.

What McKenzie does not say but the documents support

The coalition’s redefinition of “Internet Companies” to include banks and credit card brands was not a drafting accident. It was the move that gave the operation its reach. Without the banks and the card networks, the coalition has only platforms. With the banks, the coalition has the entire material substrate of organized political activity. Money is more fundamental than messaging. You can lose your Twitter account and still raise money. You cannot lose your merchant processor and still raise money.
The coalition understood this. Color of Change’s executive director Rashad Robinson described it directly on Hillary Clinton’s (b. 1947) podcast in March 2021: the campaign began with credit card companies and payment processors, then moved to banks, then back. The financial layer was the target from the beginning. The platforms were the leverage to reach the financial layer.
This is why the SPLC indictment matters more than the political content of the SPLC’s advocacy. The Bank Secrecy Act regime makes it difficult for any organization to run a covert payment scheme without misrepresenting the purpose of the payments to its bank. The same financial surveillance regime the coalition expanded to target its enemies caught the coalition itself. The Intelligence Project paid informants through arrangements that, on the indictment’s account, required false statements to the SPLC’s bank. The privatization of intelligence work bumps against banking compliance because intelligence work requires opacity and banking compliance requires transparency. You cannot have both.
The coalition built a regime in which financial gatekeepers police political speech. The regime then policed the coalition. Whether this is irony or justice depends on whether the regime survives. Either outcome confirms that the financial layer is now the live political layer.

Where the piece points without arriving

McKenzie ends on the moral authority of charities as a commons. The frame is correct but does not go far enough. The 501(c)(3) tax exemption is not a privilege extended in trade for forsaking flackery. It is a privilege extended in trade for serving a public purpose held in common. The coalition did not just become flacks. The coalition became a private adjunct to state power, exercising functions a constitutional state cannot exercise, while claiming the moral premium of charitable service.
This is the constitutional novelty and McKenzie does not name it. American free expression doctrine assumes the state is the threat. The coalition is not the state. The platforms and banks the coalition pressures are not the state. None of the actors in the chain trip the constitutional wires. The result is a censorship regime that operates through entirely private parties using entirely lawful pressure to produce outcomes that, if the state attempted them directly, would be struck down on First Amendment grounds within a fortnight.
The fix for this is not a new statute. The fix is a shift in how the public reads the coalition. Once readers understand that “civil society” can become a parallel power center with intelligence, lobbying, and enforcement functions, the moral authority of the coalition begins to deflate. McKenzie’s piece accelerates the deflation. The piece works by showing the coalition’s conduct in the coalition’s own voice and letting readers reach the obvious conclusion. That is the right method for the moment. Argument loses to artifact when artifact is available.
The coalition will reform. The donors will fund the successor. The personnel will rotate. The function will persist. The question for the next decade is whether enough of the public develops the analytical equipment to see the function through the cycling of names. McKenzie has contributed equipment. Whether the equipment finds users is the open question.

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The Reconstructive Mind: An Intellectual Biography of Dan Sperber

Dan Sperber (b. 1942) was born in Cagnes-sur-Mer on the French Riviera. His father, the Austrian-French novelist Manès Sperber (1905-1984), broke from the Communist Party in the 1930s and wrote about ideological capture and political faith. His parents, both non-religious Ashkenazi Jews, raised him an atheist but passed on a respect for his rabbinic ancestors and for serious religious thinkers in general.

Sperber says he came to anthropology because he wanted to understand how rational people end up holding mistaken beliefs about the supernatural. The puzzle stayed with him for the next sixty years and shaped most of his work.

He studied anthropology at the Sorbonne and at the University of Oxford. At Oxford, Rodney Needham (1923-2006) introduced him to structural anthropology. Back in Paris he attended the seminar of Claude Lévi-Strauss (1908-2009), the founder of structuralism, who encouraged what Sperber later called his “untypical theoretical musings.” In 1965 he joined the CNRS as a researcher in the African studies laboratory and conducted fieldwork among the Dorze people of Ethiopia.

His first book, Le structuralisme en anthropologie (1973), grew out of his early enthusiasm for the structuralist program. By the time it appeared, he had begun to turn against it. In Rethinking Symbolism (1975) he attacked the dominant semiological treatment of culture associated with Victor Turner (1920-1983) and Clifford Geertz (1926-2006). The semiological view treats ritual and myth as systems of meaning to be decoded. Sperber argued that this got the cognitive picture wrong. People do not decode symbols. They process them. Symbolic thought is not a code but a way the mind handles information that ordinary inferential thought cannot fully digest. The book proposed a cognitive psychology of religion and ritual rather than a semiotics of culture.

In On Anthropological Knowledge (1985) he turned to ethnographic method. Anthropologists, he argued, often present interpretive readings of native belief as if those readings were objective records of what informants think. The interpreter’s voice gets confused with the informant’s. The result is a literature that resists falsification and lacks explanatory power.

The same impulse drove Explaining Culture: A Cognitive Approach (1996), the book that made his reputation in the cognitive sciences. Here he laid out his alternative to symbolic anthropology and to the meme theory of Richard Dawkins (b. 1941). He called it the epidemiology of representations, later renamed cultural attraction theory. The picture goes like this. Mental representations spread through populations the way pathogens spread, by transmission from mind to mind, but unlike pathogens they almost never copy with high fidelity. Each act of transmission is a reconstruction. Cultural items survive across generations not because minds are good copying machines, which they are not, but because some contents are catchy. They line up with how the mind works. Cognitive attractors pull noisy reconstructions back toward stable shapes. Religious beliefs, folktales, and rituals owe their persistence to that pull. The picture is Darwinian without being memetic. It explains population-level patterns through individual cognitive attractors operating over time.

Kim Sterelny (b. 1950) later named this body of work the Paris School of cultural evolution and contrasted it with the California School of Robert Boyd (b. 1948) and Peter Richerson (b. 1943), who lean more on dual-inheritance models of high-fidelity transmission. The two schools agree that culture evolves and disagree about the cognitive picture under the evolution.

Sperber’s other major line of work began in the late 1970s with Deirdre Wilson (b. 1941), the British linguist and philosopher he met at University College London. Together they developed relevance theory, set out in Relevance: Communication and Cognition (1986) and refined in Meaning and Relevance (2012). Relevance theory is a theory of pragmatics, the part of linguistics that asks how hearers move from what a sentence says to what a speaker means. The theory rests on a claim about cognition. The mind seeks the largest cognitive payoff for the smallest processing cost. When a hearer interprets an utterance, he picks the interpretation that gives him the best ratio of effects to effort. The communicative principle of relevance follows: a speaker who chooses to speak signals that his utterance is worth the effort of interpretation. The theory has become a standard frame in pragmatics and has shaped work in linguistics, artificial intelligence, and cognitive psychology.

His third major project, developed with Hugo Mercier (b. 1974), came out of his work on epistemic vigilance, the cognitive capacities that let people resist deceptive communication. The Enigma of Reason by Hugo Mercier and Dan Sperber argues that reason did not evolve to help us find truth or make better individual decisions. It evolved to help us justify our actions to others and evaluate the justifications others provide. Reason works well in adversarial group settings, where two or more people exchange arguments, and works poorly in solitary deliberation, where the lone reasoner falls prey to confirmation bias. The classic findings of the heuristics-and-biases tradition look less like flaws of an imperfect truth-tracker and more like features of a tool built for argument.

The argumentative theory connects back to relevance theory and to the epidemiology of representations. All three projects share a common picture. Communication is not a transparent transfer of meaning. It is a cognitive process between minds that have evolved to produce, evaluate, and resist messages. Reason is a tool inside that process.

Sperber spent most of his career at the CNRS, moving through the African studies laboratory, the Laboratoire d’ethnologie et de sociologie comparative, the Centre de Recherche en Epistémologie Appliquée, and from 2001 the Institut Jean Nicod, the cognitive science institute affiliated with the École Normale Supérieure. He later took a chair at Central European University, in the departments of cognitive science and philosophy. He directs the International Cognition and Culture Institute, an online research and discussion site.

He has held visiting posts at Princeton, Michigan, Hong Kong, Chicago, the London School of Economics, University College London, and the University of Bologna. He is a Corresponding Fellow of the British Academy. He won the Rivers Memorial Medal of the Royal Anthropological Institute in 1991, the Silver Medal of the CNRS in 2002, the Mind and Brain Prize in 2009, and the inaugural Claude Lévi-Strauss Prize for French research in the humanities and social sciences in 2009. He has delivered the Malinowski Memorial Lecture at the LSE, the Mircea Eliade Lectures at Western Michigan, the Radcliffe-Brown Lecture at the British Academy, the Robert Hertz Lecture at the EHESS, the Lurcy Lecture at Chicago, and the Carl Hempel Lectures at Princeton.

His career sits at an unusual crossroads. He trained as an anthropologist and ended up a cognitive scientist. He fought structuralism and symbolic anthropology from inside French intellectual culture and built an alternative drawing on Anglo-American cognitive psychology. He worked on linguistics with a partner from across the Channel and on reasoning with a younger collaborator from the next generation of French cognitive science. The throughline is the question he started with as a young man in the 1960s: how do rational minds come to hold the beliefs they hold, and how does culture move through populations of such minds? The answer he built over five decades treats culture as the visible pattern of countless small cognitive events, each one a reconstruction, each one shaped by the architecture of the mind doing the reconstructing.

Convenient Beliefs

Sperber’s convenient beliefs are easy to list. Naturalism in the sciences of mind pays well at the CNRS and Institut Jean Nicod. Methodological individualism applied to culture pays well in cognitive science, costs little outside humanistic anthropology. Atheism is the default European academic stance. He has avoided the third rails. He does not write about race, sex differences, group genetic variation, or Jewish ethnocentrism. His coalition stays intact.
Now the inconvenient ones.
First, his attack on anthropological relativism. In his 1982 essay “Apparently Irrational Beliefs” and in his book Explaining Culture (1996), he argued that the protected category of “different rationalities” was a sentimental defense of cultural anthropology’s professional turf. The Dorze of Ethiopia who claim that the leopard is a Christian animal fasting on Wednesdays and Fridays are not operating with a different logic. They hold the belief in a different register, with different commitments, but the laws of thought do not vary by culture. Cultural anthropologists treat that claim as imperialism. Sperber accepted the cost.
Second, the argumentative theory of reasoning, developed with Hugo Mercier (b. 1974). The Enigma of Reason by Hugo Mercier and Dan Sperber argues that reason did not evolve to help us find truth or make better individual decisions. It evolved to help us justify our actions to others and evaluate the justifications others provide. The claim is inconvenient for several coalitions at once. Liberal democratic theorists need reason to track truth through deliberation. Educators need reason to be teachable as a truth-finding tool. Philosophers need reason as their professional warrant. Sperber’s account treats reason as a coalition tool. He kept his job because cognitive science can absorb the claim as an empirical hypothesis, but the broader implication corrodes a great deal of received wisdom about expertise, deliberation, and democratic discourse.
Third, epistemic vigilance. Sperber and his collaborators argue that humans have evolved defenses against deception. Audiences calibrate trust by source, message, and context. The implication is awkward for the trust-the-experts script. If audiences resist expert claims, that resistance is not a bug to be corrected by better science communication. It is a feature of human cognition. Public health authorities, climate communicators, and university administrators do not want to hear that lay distrust of official sources reflects something cognitively reasonable.
Fourth, his treatment of religion and ritual. He argues that religious commitments live in a reflective register different from ordinary factual belief, and that ritual practices spread through cognitive attractors rather than conscious adoption. This pleases neither devout believers nor the New Atheists who want religion to be a simple cognitive error.
Fifth, his methodological individualism in cultural explanation. Cultural attraction theory says some contents catch on because of how human minds work, not because of social construction. Blank-slate constructivism dominates much of the humanities. Sperber’s account says the slate is not blank and that the catchiness of certain ideas reflects cognitive structure.
Sixth, his critique of the meme concept. Richard Dawkins’s memetics treats cultural items as replicators that copy with high fidelity. Sperber argued that cultural transmission is reconstructive rather than replicative, and that the high-fidelity assumption fails empirically. This put him at odds with a popular framework that had powerful advocates.
Why did these inconvenient beliefs survive in his career? Sperber writes from cognitive science, not anthropology, so his attack on anthropological relativism came from outside the threatened guild. He has institutional protection at the CNRS and Institut Jean Nicod, where philosophy of mind sets the terms. His heterodoxies are intellectual rather than political, which makes them tolerable in a way that, say, Amy Wax’s (b. 1953) heterodoxies are not. Turner’s frame predicts that an academic with several inconvenient beliefs will compensate by holding standard convenient beliefs in adjacent areas. Sperber fits the pattern. He is heterodox on reasoning and culture and orthodox on the third rails. The portfolio works.
The most inconvenient of his beliefs, by Turner’s measure, is the argumentative theory of reasoning. It corrodes the warrant for academic authority. Most academics depend on the premise that their reasoning tracks truth and that their disagreements with the public reflect superior epistemic discipline. Sperber says reasoning is a coalition tool that produces better outcomes mostly in adversarial group settings, and that the lone reasoner is prone to motivated confirmation. If his readers took the claim seriously, they might demand of professors what professors demand of others: produce the adversarial test, not the credentialed pronouncement. That demand has not been made, which is evidence of the theory.

Arguing is BS

Dan Sperber builds his career on the claim that reasoning did not evolve for truth. It evolved for argument. People reason to justify themselves and to evaluate the justifications others offer. The Enigma of Reason by Hugo Mercier and Dan Sperber lays this out.
Apply Pinsof to Sperber and a problem opens.
If arguing is not about persuasion, then Sperber’s career-long argument is also not about persuasion. He has spent fifty years arguing for naturalism in social science, against memetics, against structuralism, against Gricean pragmatics, against the standard picture of reason. What was he doing the whole time?
Pinsof’s answer: tribal work.
Sperber rallies the naturalistic cognitive science coalition. He gives them flags. Cultural epidemiology is a flag. Relevance theory is a flag. The argumentative theory of reasoning is a flag. Members of the coalition wave these flags at conferences, in graduate seminars, in citation chains. The flags say: we are the serious naturalists, they are the soft humanists.
Sperber rationalizes the coalition’s superiority. The continental humanities lack rigor. Memetics oversimplifies. Pure relativism cannot explain cultural stability. Each rationalization makes the coalition look smarter than its rivals.
Sperber spars. He does not engage the strongest version of structuralism. He does not steelman pure relativism. He picks easier targets. He answers some objections and skips others. Pinsof’s warning signs of pseudoargument apply: targets softened, alternatives dismissed, opponents’ questions half-answered.
Sperber defends his status. A senior chair at Jean Nicod, an appointment at Central European University, decades of co-authored papers, a long line of students. The argumentative theory of reasoning lands late in this career as a capstone. It says: your old picture of reason was wrong, ours is right. That sentence raises the speaker’s status.
Sperber covers the operation in the language of science. The cover story: I am describing how the human mind works. The cover story works because the descriptions are partly true. Pinsof’s point holds anyway. Partly true descriptions can still serve coalition purposes. The descriptions that get airtime, get funded, get cited, are the ones that flatter the coalition. The descriptions that might embarrass the coalition stay quiet.
Now the recursion bites.
Sperber cannot apply his own theory to his own career without losing the career. If The Enigma of Reason is a coalition product, then The Enigma of Reason is not a proof of anything. It is an argument made to a tribe. The tribe accepts it because the tribe wants it. Sperber knows this and does not say it. Saying it might cost the chair, the citations, the standing.
Pinsof says it for him. That is why Pinsof writes on Substack and not at CNRS.
Sperber argues that arguing is not about truth. Sperber’s argument for that claim is also not about truth. It is coalition work for the naturalistic cognitive science tribe. The argument succeeds inside the coalition and stalls outside it. Form fits function.

The Set

The Paris School includes Pascal Boyer (b. 1957), who wrote Religion Explained: The Evolutionary Origins of Religious Thought, and Scott Atran (b. 1952), who worked on folk biology and later on sacred values and the men who kill and die for them. The linguistics wing runs through Deirdre Wilson (b. 1941) at University College London, Sperber’s partner in relevance theory, and her students Robyn Carston and Diane Blakemore. Relevance theory extends and corrects Paul Grice (1913-1988). The younger generation includes Hugo Mercier, co-author of The Enigma of Reason, along with Olivier Morin, Nicolas Claidière, Christophe Heintz, Nicolas Baumard, Thom Scott-Phillips, Olivier Mascaro, Fabrice Clément, and the philosopher Gloria Origgi. Lawrence Hirschfeld worked the social-categorization side. Maurice Bloch (b. 1939), a Marxist anthropologist, argued with the set as a friendly antagonist. Their homes are the CNRS, the Institut Jean Nicod on the rue d’Ulm, and the Central European University. Sperber built them a hub, the International Cognition and Culture Institute.

What they value most is explanation over interpretation. The reigning anthropology of their youth, the symbolic anthropology of Victor Turner (1920-1983) and Clifford Geertz (1926-2006), read a culture as a text, a web of meanings the analyst interprets with care. Sperber’s first book, Rethinking Symbolism, rejected that. He wanted causes. He wanted to say why a symbol spreads and holds, not what it means to a sensitive reader. The set inherits that hunger. They want anthropology to behave like a science, to find regularities across cultures, to make predictions, to run experiments. The younger men do run them.

They value naturalism. Mind and culture belong to the same world the natural sciences describe, and no separate social level floats free of psychology and biology. Explaining Culture: A Cognitive Approach states it plainly: culture is the distribution of representations across a population, ideas in heads and the public signs that carry them, and you explain that distribution by studying how minds take in, store, and pass on ideas. They also value clarity and they detest the guru. Sperber attacked the prestige economy of French theory, the rewarding of profound-sounding obscurity, and the set prizes plain argument and claims a critic can test.

Their hero takes something the humanities had walled off as sacred or beyond reach and gives it a cognitive account. Religion is the prize. Sperber set the puzzle. Boyer answered a large part of it with the claim that religious concepts succeed because they are minimally counterintuitive, a familiar template with one strange feature, easy to remember and pleasant to repeat. Atran carried the work toward why men treat certain values as beyond trade and price. The heroic act is the naturalizing of the holy. A second hero appears in the circle, the iconoclast who breaks a reigning paradigm without contempt for his teachers. Sperber is the model again, and the lineage reads his career as the pattern.

The status games run on three tracks. The first prize comes when your framework stops being one option and becomes the standard others assume. Relevance theory reached that in pragmatics. It is taught, applied, and fought over, and the field can no longer ignore it. The second track is the Paris-California contest. The California School of Robert Boyd, Peter Richerson, Joseph Henrich, and Michael Tomasello says culture spreads by high-fidelity copying and selection on variants. The Paris School says representations get rebuilt each time they pass between minds, and they stabilize because cognitive attractors pull them toward the same shapes. Cinderella survives because minds reconstruct her, not because the tale travels word for word. Both sides claim Darwin, and the contest decides who counts as the better Darwinian of culture. The third track is distinction from memetics. Richard Dawkins (b. 1941) gave the public the meme, a unit of culture that replicates the way a gene does. Sperber rejected the replicator picture and took standing as the sophisticated alternative to a popular idea. Membership in the public-science world counts too, the Edge.org orbit of John Brockman, the adjacency to Steven Pinker (b. 1954) and Daniel Dennett (1942-2024). And inside the set, the founder who produces disciples outranks the lone theorist. Sperber’s standing rests in part on a living lineage that carries the program and cites him as it goes.

Their normative claims follow from the values. Social science ought to be causal and naturalistic, and interpretation by itself does not count as explanation. Anthropology ought to seek what recurs across cultures rather than retreat into the uniqueness of each. Reasoning ought to be understood as a social tool. Mercier and Sperber argue that reason evolved to produce arguments and to weigh the arguments of others, so a lone man reasons poorly and a group that argues well reasons better, and the practical lesson is to build settings where people argue. They also hold that listeners ought to screen what they are told, and that they do. The 2010 paper “Epistemic Vigilance,” written by Sperber with Clément, Heintz, Mascaro, Mercier, Origgi, and Wilson, argues that trust runs calibrated rather than automatic, and that communication holds together because people watch their sources.

Their essentialist claims sit underneath all of it. The mind has a fixed architecture, a set of domain-specific systems present in every human: folk biology, folk psychology, a sense for physical objects, a system for sorting people into kinds. These belong to human nature rather than to culture, and they set the channels culture runs in. Human nature is real and shared, against the blank slate. Culture has no separate existence apart from the minds that make and remake it. Religious belief has a profile, the small violation of an intuitive category. Reason has a function, justification and evaluation in company. Sacred values, on Atran’s account, form a real kind of commitment that resists exchange. Each claim says what something is at bottom, and the set treats such claims as the proper aim of a science of man.

The strength and the exposure share an address. They promise a causal account of culture, which wins them respect among scientists and scorn from interpretive anthropologists who think they crush meaning down into cognition. Whether attraction beats selection, whether the mind’s parts are as fixed as the program asserts, whether reason’s purpose is argument, all stay open. The set has built durable theory in pragmatics and a serious research line in cultural evolution. It has not yet written the full naturalized science of culture it set out to produce.

Posted in Epistemics | Comments Off on The Reconstructive Mind: An Intellectual Biography of Dan Sperber

Back Pain

I almost never have back pain as long as I keep up daily core exercises such as planks, except when I have been sitting all day and then go for a walk where I step off a sidewalk and the way down is longer than I expect, and then suddenly I feel a painful twinge in my lower back that resolves shortly after my feet hit the ground. Can you explain?

Gemini says:

This sudden twinge happens because your brain and body fail to prepare for the impact. When you expect a level surface but your foot continues to fall, the anticipated ground reaction force does not occur when the brain predicts it. This error disrupts the coordinated bracing that usually protects your spine.

Your core exercises like planks build great endurance, but they involve static or predictable tension. A surprise drop requires reactive stability. When the foot finally hits the ground unexpectedly, the impact forces travel up the leg and reach the pelvis and lower back before your muscles can contract to absorb the shock. This creates a brief, sharp loading on the spinal discs or the sacroiliac joints.

The pain resolves quickly because the tissues are not damaged, but the nervous system sends a rapid signal to warn you of the jarring force. This event is a failure of feedforward control, where the nervous system normally tightens specific muscles in anticipation of a known impact to maintain the integrity of the spinal column. Without that anticipation, the skeletal structure takes the brunt of the force instead of the muscles.

It is likely that walking more reduces these incidents because it keeps your nervous system in a state of high alert and fine-tunes your proprioception. Proprioception is the sense of your body’s position in space. When you walk frequently, you provide your brain with constant data about terrain changes, curb heights, and surface textures. This steady stream of information sharpens the predictive models your brain uses to anticipate the ground.

Walking also serves as a form of dynamic loading that differs from the static tension of a plank. While planks strengthen the core in a fixed position, walking requires the spine and pelvis to manage shifting weights and rotational forces with every step. This movement keeps the stabilizing muscles around the spine primed for quick adjustments. If you walk less, these reactive pathways may become less efficient, leading to a slight delay in how fast your muscles fire when the ground is not where you expect it to be.

Increased movement also improves the fluid exchange within your spinal discs. This hydration helps the discs act as better shock absorbers for the occasional jarring impact. By walking more, you maintain a more responsive system that can recover from a misstep before the force produces a painful signal.

Grok says:

Your nervous system is excellent at anticipatory postural adjustments (APAs). When you expect a normal curb drop (say, 4–6 inches), your brain automatically pre-activates your core muscles (including the deep stabilizers you train with planks), glutes, quads, and calves a split-second before your foot hits the ground. This braces your spine, bends your knees slightly, and lets your legs absorb the impact like shock absorbers. The force is distributed safely, and your strong core keeps the lumbar spine stable.

When the drop is unexpectedly longer (or you misjudge the height), those anticipatory signals are wrong or missing. Your leading leg drops farther and faster under gravity, so your foot lands with more speed and often with a straighter knee/less prepared leg. The impact jolt travels straight up the “kinetic chain” (foot → shin → thigh → pelvis → lumbar spine) without the normal cushioning. This sudden compressive/shear force briefly overloads the lower back muscles (like the erector spinae), ligaments, or facet joints.

Your core is strong for planned movements, but the surprise element means the muscles don’t get the pre-bracing cue in time. The result is a quick, reflexive protective muscle spasm—your body’s way of “locking down” the area to prevent anything worse (like a disc or joint tweak). That spasm is the twinge you feel. Once the unexpected load is over and your feet are planted, the spasm relaxes, inflammation stays minimal, and the pain resolves fast. This is why it almost never happens with normal steps or when you’re paying close attention.

It’s the same reason people can tweak their back from an unexpected sneeze, missing a step that isn’t there, or lifting something that turns out heavier than expected—the mismatch between what the brain anticipated and what actually happened creates the vulnerability.

Planks build excellent anterior core endurance and spinal stability for predictable loads (walking, lifting, etc.). That’s why you rarely have back pain day-to-day. But they don’t fully train the surprise/reactive control system that kicks in during sudden changes in terrain. The good news: this scenario is almost always benign in otherwise healthy, active people.

If the twinge ever lingers more than a few minutes, radiates down a leg, causes weakness/numbness, or starts happening more often, it’s worth checking with a doctor or physical therapist just to rule out anything like a facet irritation or mild disc issue. But based on your description (rare, quick resolution, strong core baseline), it’s a classic “oops” moment rather than a red flag.

To make it happen even less often, some people add quick reactive drills (like single-leg step-downs from a low box while varying the height slightly, or balance work on unstable surfaces), but your current routine already puts you way ahead of most people. Keep planking—you’ve basically got a built-in back insurance policy for everything except those surprise curbs!

Posted in Back | Comments Off on Back Pain

The Question MO Will Not Ask

Do you accept historicism (that everything is a product of a time and place)? If not, on what grounds? The question is simple to state. It is difficult to answer. It is the question Modern Orthodox scholarship will not ask, and the refusal to ask it is the central fact about contemporary MO intellectual life.
Modern Orthodoxy uses academic-philological methods to study parts of its own tradition. The methods detect editorial layers. They detect changes in halakhic categories across centuries. They detect rabbinic falsifications. They show the Talmud developing rather than arriving fixed. They show the chain of mesorah as a sequence of contested negotiations whose participants believed they were transmitting what they were partially constructing. The methods work. The findings stand. The MO scholar accepts them.
The methods do not stop at the edge of comfort. If they are valid against the editorial work of seventeenth-century printers, they are valid against the editorial work of redactors of the Mishnah. If they apply to Tosafot, they apply to the Mekhilta. If they apply to the Mekhilta, they apply to the Bible. If they apply to the Bible, they apply to Sinai. The chain has no natural stopping point. The MO scholar stops anyway. He stops at the place where stopping protects what he wants to protect. The stopping is not principled. It is institutional. He uses the methods up to the line that institutional life can absorb. He refuses the methods past that line. He calls the refusal balance, integration, faithfulness.
The question is whether the refusal can be defended. The deeper question is what historicism does to MO’s foundational claims. MO claims revelation at Sinai, divine authorship of the Torah, divine command as the ground of halakha, divine continuity in the chain of mesorah. The consensus of academic scholarship is that there was no miraculous Exodus, that Torah is a composite document edited together by post-exilic redactors from earlier sources, that Sinai as the text describes it did not happen, that Moses did not write the Pentateuch, that the mesorah is a sequence of contested negotiations rather than a continuous transmission of divine teaching. These claims are not fringe. They are the working assumptions of the discipline whose methods MO scholars use on selected materials. The MO scholar reads the discipline. He uses its methods. He does not affirm its findings about the foundational texts. The non-affirmation is the question. If he accepts the methods, on what grounds does he reject the findings? If he accepts the findings, what becomes of divine command, divine authorship, divine revelation, divine continuity?
R. Aviad Hollander does not ask this. He frames the Sperber controversy in academic-sociological terms. He talks about structural tensions, charismatic authority within a traditional system, modern religious life. He does not address what historicism does to the foundational claims his MO readers live by. The methods he deploys on rabbinic-period materials are continuous with the methods that produced the documentary hypothesis. He does not extend the application. He does not write that the Torah is a composite document. He does not write that Sinai did not happen. He does not write that halakha rests on textual layers redacted in the Persian period rather than on commands given at Sinai. He does not say these things and he does not say their opposites. He performs neither affirmation. He keeps the foundational question outside his prose. The keeping-outside is institutional. Bar-Ilan operates as an Orthodox university. Its scholars use academic methods up to the line that institutional Orthodoxy can absorb. They do not extend the methods past the line. Hollander’s career depends on not pressing the question. He does not press it. He writes about Sperber as a sociological development. He does not write about what Sperber’s halakhic confidence rests on, given what biblical scholarship has done to the texts that supposedly ground halakha. The unwritten thing is the question. The writing about other things is the avoidance.
The question, in another form: are your commitments held because they are true, or because your institutions reward them?
R. Daniel Sperber does not ask this. He has built a career as the public intellectual posek of liberal Modern Orthodoxy. He has issued rulings. He has signed legitimating responsa. He has taught generations of students that humane halakha is what halakha is. If he concluded that his framework was a coalition power move executed by educated MO elites against haredi authority, that humane principles tracked the secular intuitions of the universities his readers attend rather than the inner logic of Torah, that his communal-spirit detection method amounted to consultation with his own coalition, the rulings would have to be retracted. The students would feel betrayed. The friendships would shift. The invitations would dry up. The legacy would be reframed from the recovery of authentic Torah to the importation of contemporary moral fashion under cover of philological scholarship. Sperber would have to spend his last years repudiating his life’s work. He will not do this. No one would.
The question, asked of the dead: what would R. Shlomo Goren have said if he had asked it?
Goren is the absent figure in the set. The cost he avoided by not asking is now hypothetical, but it should be named. If Goren in 1980 had concluded that his redemptive reading of 1948 and 1967 was naive historicism, that Strauss was right, that Freyer’s deradicalization was a warning, that the structure of his theology of history was identical to the structure of secular philosophies of history that had failed, he would have had to renarrate his life. The wars he served in. The rabbinic career he built. The religious-Zionist movement he helped lead. The Chief Rabbinate. All of it would have been recategorized. He would have remained a religious Jew. He would have remained a halakhic decisor. He would have been a different figure: a Leibowitz, perhaps. A respected critic rather than a beloved guide. He chose otherwise. The choice was rational given the costs.
The question turned on the method itself: are the academic tools that detect Orthodox falsification grounded, or are they the same normative commitment in academic disguise?
Marc B. Shapiro documented Orthodox publishers altering earlier texts to fit later sensibilities. He has shown rabbis revising their predecessors. He has written on the limits of Orthodox theology, on the variety of medieval positions later Orthodoxy concealed, on the changes in halakhic practice across centuries. The work is meticulous. The work is honest. The work is courageous. The line is the line where the methods stop. Shapiro applies philological-historical methods to seventeenth-century printers, nineteenth-century editors, twentieth-century rabbinic biographers. He does not apply them, in writing, to the redactors of the Pentateuch. He does not affirm in print that the documentary hypothesis is correct, that Sinai did not happen as described, that the Torah is a composite document, that the mesorah is a sequence of contested negotiations rather than a continuous transmission of divine teaching. These claims, on the consensus of scholarship, are correct. The methods that produced the consensus are the methods Shapiro uses on later materials. The non-extension is the issue. Why does the philological method that detects Orthodox falsification stop at the door of the Pentateuch? On what grounds does Shapiro affirm critical scholarship of the rabbinic period while declining to engage critical scholarship of the biblical period in his own writing? The answer is not philosophical. It is institutional. Shapiro’s audience is Orthodox. His career depends on staying within the boundary that lets him be read as the licensed dissident rather than the heretic. Maimonides counted divine authorship of the Torah as the Eighth of his Thirteen Principles. Stepping past the boundary would put Shapiro in conflict with that principle in the most direct way. He stops short of the conflict. The stopping is what defines his licensed-dissident position. He performs courage on the rabbinic-period questions whose answers MO can absorb. He declines the biblical-period questions whose answers would dissolve the framework. The pattern is the same as Hollander’s, only more visible because Shapiro has built his reputation on near-the-line work. The further line is right there. He stops short of it. The stopping is what makes him publishable in MO venues.
I wrote May 1, 2026:

Historian Marc B. Shapiro keeps finding things strange. A photograph of the Chazon Ish wearing a tie. A passage from Rabbi Kook removed in a later edition. A biography of a haredi gadol that omits his secular education. A halakhic position the current consensus has reversed without acknowledgment. Shapiro documents these cases with care. He calls them remarkable. He pauses on them. He flags them for readers as worth attention.
…Shapiro’s Changing the Immutable (2015) runs three hundred pages of documentation of Orthodoxy’s editing operation. Photographs altered. Books reissued with passages removed. Biographies sanitized. Halakhic rulings retrojected. The pattern stays consistent across decades and across communities. Shapiro traces it. He gives names, dates, editions, comparisons of original and revised texts.
The structural account never appears in his work.
The pattern stays consistent because the coalition needs it to stay consistent. Haredi authority rests on a claim that the gedolim transmit unchanging Torah. The historical record shows the gedolim as embedded men responding to modernizing contexts, often with secular educations, with relatives outside the community, with views the current consensus has discarded. The record threatens the legitimating story. The coalition edits the record. The edits are not a defect of the operation. The edits are the operation.
Shapiro’s framing keeps the edits separate from the legitimating story. He treats the censorship as a problem the coalition has rather than as a function the coalition performs. The framing lets him document everything while challenging nothing structural.
He has explained the framing himself. He says he cannot challenge the gedolim on lomdus. He can challenge them on history. The distinction lets him stay inside Orthodoxy while doing work that, under coalition analysis, dissolves the inside.
The distinction does not hold.
Lomdus produces the halakhic conclusions the coalition needs. The historical sanitization presents those conclusions as eternal. They are one operation working in two registers. The lomdus generates the answer the coalition requires. The history erases the contingency of the answer. Together they produce the appearance of unbroken transmission. Pull on either thread and the package unravels.
Shapiro pulls on the historical thread. He pulls gently. He shows that a particular photograph was edited. He stops before saying the editing serves a structural function in the coalition’s claim to authority. He shows that a particular halakhic position was revised. He treats the revision as a curiosity rather than as a coalition requirement. He treats each case as an interesting historical fact rather than as evidence of a coordinated legitimation operation.
Turner’s convenient beliefs framework applies. The coalition needs the gedolim to be timeless. The historical record contradicts the need. The coalition edits the record. The edited record becomes the convenient belief. Members experience the edited record as the true record. Shapiro documents the editing without naming the convenience. The naming would expose his own position as a coalition position rather than as a neutral historian’s standpoint.
Pinsof’s Alliance Theory explains the haredi belief package. Why does opposition to women’s Torah education cluster with opposition to secular study and with rejection of Zionism and with hostility to Hassidic rivals and with characteristic positions on gentile relations? The package does not follow from a single principle. The package marks coalition membership. The gedolim get presented as having held the package. The historical record shows them holding pieces of it, holding modified versions, holding views the current package excludes. The editing closes the gap.
Shapiro flags the gaps case by case. The reader sees the gaps accumulating. The structural argument stays unmade because Shapiro will not make it. The argument sits in the data, waiting.
The lecture series proceeds the same way. Each week Shapiro pauses on something strange. A passage edited. A photo altered. A position revised. The pause is the coalition tell. He has trained his attention to notice the spots where the legitimating story rubs against the historical record. He stops short of generalizing from the spots to the operation. The generalization would name what cannot be named from his position.
Shapiro’s careful tone has a coalition reason. The tone marks him as a member who has discovered something rather than as a critic exposing something. The discovery framing keeps him inside. The exposure framing would push him out. He has chosen the discovery framing across decades of work.

MO sells itself as the path of integration. Religious commitment plus secular learning. Tradition plus modernity. Halakhic life plus university degree. The self-presentation includes the claim that MO has earned this integration through honest engagement, that its scholars are willing to ask hard questions, that its rabbis can absorb critical scholarship without losing faith. The selling point is that you do not have to choose. You can have everything.
The price of having everything is not asking the question that would force a choice.
MO sells itself as the path of integration. Religious commitment plus secular learning. Tradition plus modernity. Halakhic life plus university degree. The self-presentation includes the claim that MO has earned this integration through honest engagement, that its scholars are willing to ask hard questions, that its rabbis can absorb critical scholarship without losing faith. The selling point is that you do not have to choose. You can have everything.
The price of having everything is not asking the question that would force a choice. The choice is between accepting what biblical scholarship has established about the Torah and continuing to operate under MO’s institutional claims about divine command, divine authorship, and divine continuity. At first glance, the two are not compatible. The MO scholar manages the incompatibility by silence. He does not affirm the scholarly consensus in his Orthodox capacity. He does not deny it in his academic capacity. He keeps the two capacities separate. The separation is the avoidance. The avoidance is the unasked question.
The question, restated for the marriage table: does our life rest on something we can defend, or only on something we agreed not to interrogate?
Begin with the material costs of asking. The career goes. Academic positions in Jewish studies, where MO scholars have made their professional homes, depend on a certain ambiguity. The scholar can use academic methods. The scholar can also be a religious Jew. The combination is functional as long as the methods do not turn on the religious commitments. The moment they do, the position becomes untenable. Either you are a religious Jew teaching academic methods, or you are an academic teaching about Judaism. The both-and breaks down. Most MO scholars cannot afford the breakdown. They have mortgages. They have children. They have professional identities that took decades to build. They will not blow up the position in late career.
The community goes. Modern Orthodox social life is dense and tight. Shabbat invitations, school carpools, marriages of children, summer camps, youth movements, davening minyanim. The infrastructure runs on shared commitment. The Jew who decides he can no longer affirm the foundational claims becomes an awkward presence at the table. He may still be welcome, but he is welcome differently. His children’s dating prospects shrink because the families they would marry into are uncomfortable with the patriarch who undermines the framework everyone else lives by. His name acquires a slight edge of caution when it comes up. He has not been excommunicated. He has been quietly relocated from the center of the network to the periphery.
The schools go, in a different sense. MO day school costs $30,000 to $50,000 a year per child. The expense is justified by treating MO as a coherent religious-intellectual project worth funding at that level. If a parent comes to believe the project is incoherent, the cost becomes punitive. He pays the same money for an education he no longer believes is what it claims to be. He cannot easily put the children in public school because the social network punishes that move. He cannot send them to haredi school because the worldview is too foreign. He stays. He pays. He resents.
The marriage strains. Many MO marriages are built on shared institutional commitment as much as on personal compatibility. The husband who loses confidence in the framework finds his wife wondering whether the life they built rests on something he now describes as fictive. The wife who loses confidence finds her husband afraid that the children are at risk. The conversations get hard. The marriage absorbs the strain or it does not.
The identity goes. The MO Jew defines himself as someone who has the religious commitment and the modern engagement, who has thought about it, who has integrated. The identity rests on the integration holding up. Once it stops holding up, the identity has to be rebuilt around something else. Many people cannot rebuild it. They live with the cognitive dissonance. They go through the motions. Shabbat comes. They do shabbat. They do not interrogate. They are not happy. They are functional.
The replacement problem is the deepest material cost. If you conclude that MO is intellectually unstable, where do you go? Haredi requires a wholesale change of life few MO Jews can stomach. Conservative is widely perceived as a failed institutional project that has lost its base. Reform is too far for those raised Orthodox. Secular humanism leaves the meaning structure empty. So you are stuck. You have delegitimated the framework you live in and there is no framework to move to. This is psychologically unbearable. Most people will not even start down the road of asking the question because they sense the dead end at the bottom of it.
The question as Yeshayahu Leibowitz put it: have you chosen revelation, or have you chosen the appearance of having chosen it?
Leibowitz paid the cost of the question. He asked something close to the deepest version and reached an honest answer. Revelation is what the religious Jew commits to. History has no theological significance. The integration MO promises is not philosophically real. You must choose what you commit to and not pretend the choice has been finessed. He paid the social price. He was a respected critic. He was not a beloved community figure. He was admired and avoided. He had standing because his Jewish commitment was unimpeachable and his philosophical seriousness was undeniable, but he was not the rabbi people wanted at their table. He was the conscience people pointed to from a distance. He was tolerated because tolerating him was easier than answering him. He was not influential in the way Sperber is influential. The tradeoff was the cost of his honesty.
This is the cost MO scholars look at and decline. They prefer the warm community to the cold honesty. The preference is rational. The dishonesty enters when they pretend they have not made the trade. They tell themselves they have integrated tradition and modernity. They have not. They have selected a comfortable middle that requires not asking the question that would test the integration. They have built careers on asking lower-order questions whose answers do not threaten the structure. They have called this courage.
The question as Pascal might have put it: are you living in the framework because you have chosen it under uncertainty, or because you have refused to look at the uncertainty?
There is a defensible version of the position MO holds. One could say: the deepest questions cannot be answered by individuals or even by communities. The prudent response is to live faithfully within a framework while remaining humble about its foundations. Pascal would understand. Burke would understand. The epistemic humility is real. There is wisdom in living within a tradition rather than constantly trying to verify it from outside.
This is a respectable position. MO does not adopt it. MO does not say: we know the foundations may be unstable, we are choosing to live within them anyway because the alternative is worse, the choice is existential rather than rational. That would be honest. MO instead says: we have integrated, we have asked the hard questions, our scholars are courageous truth-seekers, our framework is intellectually respectable, you can have everything. The claim is what makes the silence on the deepest questions a form of dishonesty rather than a form of humility.
Are the reigning academic methods of reading text such as the Bible historically produced? Of course.
A historian can believe that all traditions develop historically without concluding that no enduring truths exist. A philologist can detect layers in the Pentateuch without proving that revelation is impossible. A sociologist can explain why a coalition holds a belief without disproving the belief itself.
Stephen Turner attacks reified collectivities and tacit-practice mysticism. He does not thereby prove nihilism. He destabilizes claims that social continuity can explain itself through mysterious inherited essences. But Turner’s framework also destabilizes secular moral orthodoxies. The same acid dissolves progressive inevitabilism, Enlightenment teleology, liberal procedural sanctimony, and academic moral consensus.
The reigning academic methods for reading the Bible such as the historical-critical method and its descendants—source criticism, form criticism, redaction criticism, emerged in specific times and places as tools shaped by Enlightenment rationalism, 17th–19th century European intellectual currents, and the institutional needs of specific coalitions. They are not timeless, neutral scalpels dropped from the sky; they carry the fingerprints of their origins.
Ernst Troeltsch (early 20th century) formalized the core principles—criticism (doubt until proven), analogy (events must resemble known experience), and correlation (events explained by natural chains of cause and effect). These explicitly bracketed supernatural claims and treated the Bible like any other ancient Near Eastern document. This was not an ontological discovery about texts; it was a methodological choice aligned with the era’s positivism and anti-dogmatic mood.
Biblical scholarship has gone through recognizable paradigm changes (pre-critical to higher criticism to literary/post-structural turns), each driven by coalition interests. What counts as “reigning” today—emphasis on composite authorship, redaction layers, ideological critique—is the product of post-Enlightenment secular interests.
Academic biblical studies operates within the secular university system, which functions as a coalition with its own status markers, boundary maintenance, and sacred values (buffered identity, rational autonomy, progress away from “pre-modern” authority, naturalistic explanations). Applying historicist tools to sacred texts signals membership in educated, cosmopolitan, liberal/progressive coalitions. It delegitimizes traditional religious claims (divine authorship, historical reliability of Sinai/Exodus as described) while leaving secular humanist commitments (human dignity, moral progress, academic freedom) unexamined.
Academic methods also track real features of the texts better than pre-modern assumptions in many cases. They are tools forged in a particular historical moment, wielded by humans in coalitions, yet capable of delivering ontological payoffs. The honest position is to use them where they work, acknowledge their contingency, and admit that no human knowledge system—academic or religious—escapes the hero-system/coalition/historicist realities. The question is not whether methods have interests; it is which interests we choose to serve.
The question as the honest scholar might put it to himself in the small hours: have I built my life on what is true, or on what was convenient?
The honest move is available. It is not taken. The reasons for not taking it are good reasons in their own terms. They are reasons of life rather than reasons of truth. Career, marriage, children, community, identity, the warm shabbat table, the friendships that have lasted decades. These are real goods. The MO scholar weighs them against the truth he would have to acknowledge if he asked the question, and chooses the goods. The choice is human. It is also the choice MO refuses to admit it has made.
Much of the appeal of MO is the quality of life and community. The question that would test the framework would damage that quality of life. So the question does not get asked. The unaskedness then gets reframed as the framework’s stability rather than as the community’s structural avoidance. Anyone who tries to ask gets characterized as a malcontent or as someone whose own life has gone wrong. The redirection protects the framework. The framework protects the quality of life. The quality of life protects the redirection. The circle is closed.
The honest writers in this terrain are the ones who have stepped outside the circle. They are usually no longer participating in the burning core of MO life when they write. They have left, or they have stayed but stopped pretending, or they were always outside. The view from outside is sometimes unflattering. The view from inside is comfortable and blinkered. People who would have to live with the unflattering view if they wrote it tend not to write it. The tendency is selection rather than choice. The community produces certain writers and not others. The writers it produces describe what the community can absorb. The writers it does not produce describe what the community cannot.
The community is good. The blindness is how the community remains good.

On the other hand, while one can practice historicism, one cannot live it.
Historicism is a method one can use on certain texts. It is not a worldview one can inhabit. No one has lived historicism. The historicist’s life refutes the historicist’s theory.
We’re wired to see eternal essences. We treat our moral judgments as binding. We love our children, defend our tribe, hate our enemies, mourn our dead, demand justice, and despise betrayal. None of this is consistent with historicism.
The secular humanist who deploys historicist methods against religious commitments exempts his own commitments to human rights, equality, dignity, progress. The asymmetry is the coalitional move. The honest position is to admit that human rights, like Torah, are commitments held under conditions of essence-perception. The wiring is the same. The selective application is the dishonesty.
The Jew who bets his life on God as the author of the Torah does what every human does — he selects an essence-perception. The only choice was which one. He chose divine Torah. He admits the choice. He commits. The commitment is not philosophically weaker than any alternative because no alternative is philosophically stronger. They are all essence-perceptions.
I accept historicism as a method to use on texts and I experience Torah as the voice of God. I live as though Torah comes from God, and I welcome truth from any source.
This is the honest answer to the historicism question.
This position has a name in the philosophical tradition. Blaise Pascal (1623–1662) called it the wager. I commit to the religious life under conditions of irreducible uncertainty because the commitment is rational under those conditions even if the metaphysical claim cannot be proven. Søren Kierkegaard (1813–1855) called it the leap. The religious life is chosen, not deduced. The choice is the existential act that makes the religious self real. The leap does not require that historicism be refuted. The leap requires that you act in spite of knowing historicism cannot be refuted.
My formulation has four parts.
“I accept historicism.” I concede that the methods reach everything, including the foundational texts. I do not claim that some halakhic firewall protects Sinai from the criticism that reaches the Talmud. I give up the institutional pretension that MO has integrated tradition and modernity through scholarship.
“I experience Torah as the voice of God.” This is a phenomenological claim, not a metaphysical one. I am not claiming I have proven that Torah is divine. I report that I encounter it that way. The encounter is real. The encounter is also historicizable, and I know this. I experience Torah this way because of my lived experience. The encounter does not lift me out of history. It is a historical phenomenon. Within history, this is the encounter I have. The phenomenology is descriptive, not justifying.
“Live as though they come from God.” This is the Pascal move and the Kierkegaard move and the Yeshayahu Leibowitz move. I commit to the form of life appropriate to the religious claim without requiring that the claim be verified. The “as though” is honest in a way that “because” is not. “Because” claims I have established the truth. “As though” admits I have chosen the form of life consistent with the truth as I experience it. The two stances look identical from outside. They differ from inside. The first is brittle because it depends on the claim holding up under criticism. The second is durable because it does not depend on the claim being verified at all.
“I welcome truth from any source.” This is the Maimonidean move from the Eight Chapters: accept the truth from whoever speaks it. The commitment to revealed Torah does not require that I wall off inquiry. The commitment is to live the religious life under uncertainty, not to defend the religious life by foreclosing inquiry. If something is true and comes from a non-Jewish source, you accept it. If something is true and comes from biblical criticism, you accept it. If something is true and comes from anthropology of religion, you accept it. The acceptance does not dissolve the commitment because the commitment is not held on the ground that nothing else is true.
Why don’t MO scholars say this?
First, saying it concedes that MO has not philosophically integrated tradition and modernity. MO sells the integration. Public adoption of the wager position would force a revision of the institutional self-presentation. The institutions would have to stop claiming integration and start claiming wager. The selling point evaporates. The selling point is what attracts the dues-paying members and the day-school families.
Second, the wager position weakens halakhic authority. The traditional posek’s authority depended on the claim that the law was God’s law, fully and without qualification. The wager-based posek interprets a tradition he commits to but does not know to be true. His pesak has the same content. The authority behind the pesak is different. He cannot say “this is what God commands” with the same confidence. He can say “this is what we who are committed to the tradition take to be required.” Many congregants will find the second formulation thin. Many poskim will not operate under it.
Third, the wager position relativizes the comparative claim. If your wager rests on your phenomenological encounter, the Christian who has the analogous encounter has an analogous wager. The Hindu who has the analogous encounter has an analogous wager. You cannot say your wager is more rational than theirs because the wagers are not held on rational grounds in the strong sense. You can say your wager is yours and theirs is theirs and that the wagers are not commensurable. Many religious Jews are committed to a stronger claim than this. They want their religion to be more true than others, not more authoritative for them. The wager position cannot deliver the stronger claim.
Fourth, the wager position requires more honesty about uncertainty than most religious leaders will model. Communities want confidence from their leaders. The leader who says “I commit under uncertainty and you should too” is not the leader most communities want. The leader who says “this is the truth and our tradition delivers it” is the leader most communities want. The wager-based leader is in Leibowitz’s position. Admired and avoided. Few will choose Leibowitz’s position when Sperber’s position is available.
Fifth, the wager position is socially solitary. It does not build the warm community in the same way that confident religious certainty builds it. The community that knows it is on the path to redemption holds together differently than the community that is wagering under conditions of uncertainty. The first community is energetic and self-reproducing. The second community is contemplative and recruits with difficulty. MO scholars who privately hold the wager position publicly perform the certainty position because the institutions they serve depend on the certainty position. The performance is not entirely cynical. The performance also serves the community’s actual functioning. The cost of dropping the performance is the loss of the community.
So my formulation is honest in a way the MO institutional formulation is not. It is also lonely in a way the MO institutional formulation is not. Most MO scholars cannot publicly hold it because they are paid to produce a different formulation. They produce the formulation. They tell themselves it is what they believe. Some of them, in the small hours, may believe what you have just said. They do not say it in writing. They do not say it from the pulpit. The space where it gets said is the private conversation among friends after the kids are in bed and the wine has loosened the institutional vocabulary. In that space some MO scholars probably say something close to your formulation. In writing, in public, in the institutional framing of MO life, the formulation does not appear.
My position is not the only honest position. Leibowitz’s position is honest in a more austere way. Leibowitz refused even the phenomenological warrant. He did not say “I experience Torah as the voice of God.” He said “I obey halakha because the religious Jew obeys halakha.” He grounded the commitment in the act of obedience without invoking religious experience because he did not trust religious experience as a source of authority.
My formulation does something the MO institutional formulation cannot do. It tells the truth about the relationship between religious commitment and religious certainty. The two are not the same. The MO institutional formulation conflates them, claiming that scholarship has produced certainty and that commitment follows from the certainty. My formulation separates them, allowing commitment to operate without certainty and allowing inquiry to operate without dissolving commitment. This is closer to how religious life is lived by serious people in any tradition. The conflation is the institutional fiction. The separation is the honest description.
The reason my formulation is rarely articulated in MO is not that it is unknown. It is that articulating it ends a particular institutional career path. The career path requires the conflation. The honest description undoes it. So the description does not get written by people who would lose their careers for writing it. It gets written by people like me who do not have those careers to lose.

Hero Systems All the Way Down: The Becker Addition to the Wager

The wager position looks vulnerable only if the secular alternatives are taken to have escaped the wager structure. They have not. Ernest Becker’s The Denial of Death makes this point with as much force as anything written in the twentieth century. Humans cannot live without hero systems. The hero system grants the individual symbolic immortality by linking him to a transcendent project that outlasts his life. Every culture supplies one. Every functioning person operates inside one. The choice is not whether to have a hero system. The choice is which hero system to have, and whether to admit you have one.
Religion is the most explicit hero system. The Torah Jew commits to a transcendent project that gives his life meaning. The commitment grants him a place in the chain of mesorah that began before he was born and will continue after he dies. The shabbat table is a participation in something larger than the individual. The halakhic life is an enactment of cosmic significance. This is the hero system in plain form.
Secular alternatives are hero systems too. The scientific naturalist commits to a project of knowledge accumulation that grants him symbolic participation in a transcendent enterprise: the species’ growing understanding of the universe. He does not call it transcendent. The structure is transcendent. The progressive commits to the arc of history bending toward justice. The arc is the transcendence. The Marxist commits to the revolution that will redeem humanity. The revolution is the transcendence. The liberal humanist commits to human dignity as an unconditional value. The unconditional value is the transcendence. None of these commitments rests on philosophically secured foundations. Each is a wager. Each is held under conditions of irreducible uncertainty. Each functions as a hero system. Each grants its holder a place in something larger than the individual life.
The Strauss critique applies to all of them. The scientific naturalist’s confidence in reason is a historical product of the European Enlightenment. The progressive’s confidence in moral progress is a secularization of Christian eschatology, as Karl Löwith (1897-1973) documented. The Marxist’s revolution is Christian apocalypse with the supernatural cap removed, as Eric Voegelin (1901–1985) and others have shown. The liberal humanist’s human dignity floats free of any foundation it can defend; dignity turns out to be a placeholder for whatever the relevant educated coalition treats as morally serious. None of these positions has escaped historicism. Each pretends it has. The pretense is the form their hero system takes when challenged.
So the Orthodox Jew who states the wager position is in better standing than he is usually given credit for. He is doing what every functioning person does: committing to a hero system that grants his life meaning. He differs from his secular interlocutors in that he admits the structure of his commitment. He says: I commit to this under conditions of uncertainty. The secular interlocutor usually does not say this. He says: science is just true, progress is just real, dignity is just self-evident. The Orthodox Jew with the wager position is not below the secular interlocutor on the scale of intellectual honesty. He is above it. He has admitted what the secular interlocutor has refused to admit.
I stand on the communal experience of God. It is no less impressive a place to stand than any other place to stand. It may be more impressive because it is honest about what it is.
The atheist’s stand on reason is a stand on a communal experience: the experience of those for whom reason functions as the supreme value and who together constitute a community of commitment to it. The progressive’s stand on justice is a stand on a communal experience: the experience of those for whom moral progress is real and who together constitute a community of commitment to it. The scientist’s stand on the explanatory power of physics is a stand on a communal experience: the experience of those for whom physics gives the deepest account of reality and who together constitute a community of commitment to it. None of these communal experiences provides external validation for the commitment. Each is the commitment finding its native shape. The Orthodox Jew’s communal experience of God is doing the same work. The work is hero-system work. The work is what humans do.
This puts the wager position in the strong intellectual position of admitting its own structure. The secular alternatives that claim to be more rigorous have refused to admit theirs. The Orthodox Jew who stands on the communal experience of God under the wager structure is therefore standing on as defensible a foundation as any human stands on. He is also being more honest about his foundation than most of the people who would dismiss him.
The dismissal usually takes a particular form. The secular interlocutor says: your commitment rests on an experience that cannot be verified. The wager Jew should respond: yours does too. The interlocutor’s commitment to reason rests on an experience that cannot be verified. The interlocutor’s commitment to progress rests on an experience that cannot be verified. The interlocutor’s commitment to human dignity rests on an experience that cannot be verified. Every meaningful commitment a human can make rests on an experience that cannot be verified. The wager Jew has admitted this. The interlocutor has not. The honesty advantage is with the Jew.
The wager Jew is not playing the game on weaker ground than his interlocutors. He is playing it on the same ground while being more honest about the ground. The communal experience of God is a transcendence claim. It is not embarrassing. The embarrassing position is the secular position that pretends it has escaped the need to make a transcendence claim. That position is incoherent. The wager position is coherent. The wager position is also honest about its incoherent neighbors.
The wager position is lonely only because it admits what others refuse to admit. The admission is not weakness. It is honesty about the human condition.
The wager Jew should not be intimidated by the sneer. The sneer is the move of someone who has lost the argument and refuses to admit the loss.

Posted in Marc B. Shapiro, Modern Orthodox, R. Aviad Hollander, R. Shlomo Goren | Comments Off on The Question MO Will Not Ask

When History Becomes Revelation: Goren, Freyer, and the Historicist Problem in Modern Orthodox Halakha

R. Shlomo Goren (1917–1994) developed a theology of history that placed the State of Israel within a redemptive historical narrative he treated as halakhically operative. The wars of 1948 and 1967 are not merely military events to be processed by inherited halakha. They are events through which divine providence speaks, and the speech generates new halakhic obligations. Goren writes pesak for the IDF, for the state, for sovereign control of holy sites, for women in military service, for the calendar of the new Jewish polity. Each of these is halakhic innovation. Each is justified by the claim that the sovereign Jewish polity is an event in salvation history that obligates new juridical responses. Goren is doing two things at once. He is producing the halakha a sovereign Jewish state requires, and he is interpreting the state as messianically significant.
The two operations need to be separated. A sovereign Jewish state generates halakhic problems that no exilic posek prepared for. The army needs rules. The Knesset needs rules. The Supreme Court needs rules. Sovereignty over non-Jews needs rules. The civil calendar interacting with the religious calendar needs rules. None of this requires messianic interpretation to be true. It is a social fact about a community that moved from minority status under foreign sovereigns to majority status under its own sovereignty after eighteen centuries. The halakhic rupture follows from the political rupture. No theology of history is needed to license the halakhic adjustments. The adjustments are forced by the new conditions.
Yeshayahu Leibowitz (1903–1994) saw this. He spent his life arguing that Jewish sovereignty in 1948 had no theological significance. The state was a political instrument of the Jewish people, no more. It generated halakhic questions because it generated new social conditions. It did not generate redemptive significance because it was a state, not a sign of God’s hand in history. Leibowitz produced halakhic and political analysis without the messianic upper deck. The cost was that he could not mobilize Jewish history as a source of religious meaning. The benefit was that his position was philosophically clean and immune to the falsification problems that beset every theology of history.
Goren chose differently. He kept the messianic upper deck. The new halakha he produced was not a response to new conditions. It was a response to redemptive conditions. The IDF was not an army. It was the army of incipient redemption. Jerusalem in 1967 was not a recovered city. It was a sign. This is where the parallel with Hans Freyer (1887–1969) becomes clear.
Freyer is the canonical case of the modern intellectual who lost confidence in inherited religious foundations and tried to place his faith in History instead. Jerry Z. Muller’s (b. 1954) The Other God That Failed: Hans Freyer and the Deradicalization of German Conservatism documented this trajectory. Freyer grew up as a faithful Protestant who then lost his faith at university and turned into a German conservative revolutionary who believed that Volk and Reich were vehicles through which History was speaking. He saw historical events as carrying revelatory weight. Weltgeschichte, world history, was a text to be read for its meaning. He committed to National Socialism on this basis. When the History he believed in delivered Auschwitz and Stalingrad, Freyer did not abandon his historicism. He deradicalized it. His later Weltgeschichte Europas (World History of Europe, 1948) and Schwelle der Zeiten (Threshold of the Ages, 1965) maintained the basic move: history has direction, history can be understood, the intellectual’s task is to discern the direction and align with it. The content changed. The structure did not. Muller’s title catches the point. Freyer’s god failed, but the god he had reached for was History, and Freyer never gave up on that god.
Goren’s structure is the same. History has direction. The direction can be discerned. Halakhic and political action should align with the discerned direction. The content is different from Freyer’s. Goren reads history as moving toward Jewish redemption rather than toward Volk redemption. The structural move is identical. Place faith in History as a meaning-bearing process that reveals itself to those equipped to read it. Treat the events of one’s lifetime as bearing revelatory weight. Generate normative claims from one’s reading of historical direction.
The genre is much wider than Freyer. The classic nineteenth-century German pattern moved from Hegel to Marx to the historical school of jurisprudence to the diplomatic historians to Dilthey to Troeltsch. Wilhelm Dilthey (1833–1911) and Ernst Troeltsch (1865–1923) are the canonical figures of historicist crisis. They saw what Christianity had become once historicized. They saw the impossibility of treating any normative content as transhistorically valid once you accepted that all content was historically situated. Troeltsch in particular spent his career trying to find a way to preserve Christian normativity within historicist premises and never succeeded to his own satisfaction. Karl Löwith (1897–1973) showed in Meaning in History (1949) that the modern philosophies of history were all secularized eschatologies. Hegel, Marx, Comte, the progressivists, the Marxists. Each had taken the Christian theology of history, evacuated the supernatural, and substituted an immanent historical process. Löwith’s point was that the substitution was unstable. The eschatological structure required a transcendent vantage point that immanent historicism could not supply. The whole edifice was self-undermining.
Leo Strauss (1899–1973) made the same point from a different angle in Natural Right and History. Historicism rests on the implicit claim of a vantage point that historicism explicitly forbids. To say that all earlier thinkers were historically conditioned is to claim that we have escaped the historical situation that conditioned them. But why are we exempt? We are not. Our claim to understand history is itself a historical product. The position is structurally unstable.
David N. Myers (b. 1960) described this Continental crisis in the field of Jewish thought at the fin de siècle in his book Resisting History: Historicism and Its Discontents in German-Jewish Thought. Myers documented the figures who saw the problem and tried to address it within a Jewish framework. Yitzhak Breuer (1883–1946), the Agudah ideologue, attempted a meta-historical theology in which the halakhic Jew lived above history while the world lived inside it. Yitzhak Baer (1888–1980) oscillated between historicism and meta-history, sometimes arguing that Jewish history revealed divine purpose. Nathan Birnbaum, Franz Rosenzweig, and several others made parallel attempts. None of them produced a stable solution. Myers’s book is honest about this. He documents the attempts. He does not claim any of them succeeded.
Goren’s theology of history sits within this genre but at a much lower level of theoretical reflection than the figures Myers studies. Goren did not engage Troeltsch. He did not engage Strauss. He did not engage Löwith. He did not engage Yitzhak Breuer’s attempt to develop a meta-historical halakhic position. He did not engage Leibowitz’s anti-historicist alternative. He worked within religious Zionism’s tacit confidence that history was unfolding redemptively, and he produced halakha on that confidence. The confidence was not theoretically defended. It was assumed.
This is naive historicism because Goren did not interrogate his own historicist premises. He claimed to understand history’s direction without addressing the question of how a historically situated thinker can know history’s direction. He treated specific events as bearing transhistorical meaning without asking how the meaning could be transhistorical if the events were historical. He committed to a redemptive reading of 1948 and 1967 without specifying what would falsify the reading. The procedure is the procedure of religious historicism, and religious historicism is structurally identical to the secular historicism Strauss critiqued. Goren cannot answer Strauss’s challenge.
The same naivete operates in Hollander’s analysis at a more sophisticated level of vocabulary. Hollander uses the academic-sociological language that descends from the historicist tradition. He treats halakhic development as historically situated. He frames the Sperber controversy as expressing structural tensions internal to modern religious life. He uses Weber. He uses what amounts to a Bourdieusian apparatus when he discusses authority and legitimacy. All of this vocabulary is the vocabulary of post-historicist sociology. None of it is interrogated for its own historical situatedness. Hollander does not ask whether his sociological description of the controversy is a coalitional move within the controversy. He does not ask whether Weber’s typology is the right typology for this case or simply a typology he learned in graduate school. He does not ask whether his structural-tension framing is a historically conditioned framing produced by the academic-religious institutions that pay him.
Strauss’s critique applies. Hollander claims a vantage point his own theoretical resources forbid. He cannot be neutral observer of the controversy because he is participant in it. He cannot describe the historical conditions that produced Sperber without describing the historical conditions that produced his own description, and he does not do the second. The vocabulary of historicist sociology lets him sound rigorous while exempting himself from rigor.
Sperber’s framework explicitly historicizes halakha. Halakha responds to changing historical conditions. The community’s spirit at any given historical moment becomes halakhically relevant. Historical scholarship becomes a halakhic input. This is not Goren’s messianic historicism but it shares the structural commitment. History is the medium through which halakhic truth manifests. The posek’s task is to read history correctly and respond to it. Sperber differs from Goren in that he does not commit to a messianic reading. He simply commits to historical responsiveness. The structure is more modest but the historicist commitment is the same. The same Strauss critique applies.
How can a normative Orthodox Jew be a historicist? The honest answer is that he cannot (unless he grounds his belief in the divine authorship of Torah in a leap of faith based on his lived experience). The two commitments cannibalize each other. Three responses are available, and none is stable.
The first response is the Leibowitz response. Refuse historicism wholesale. Treat halakha as a closed normative system that responds to new circumstances by analogy and casuistic extension, without imputing meaning to historical events. The state of Israel generates halakhic problems. The events of 1967 do not generate halakhic obligations. History is the field of action, not the source of normativity. Leibowitz held this position with intellectual honesty. The cost is that one cannot mobilize Jewish history as a source of religious meaning. Many religious Jews find this cost unbearable. The benefit is that Strauss cannot touch the position.
The second response is the Yitzhak Breuer response. Develop a meta-historical theology in which history serves a redemptive plan whose meaning is fixed by the supernatural framework rather than discovered by the historian. The historian reads events. The Torah Jew reads the Torah. The two readings can coexist because they operate on different planes. The cost is that the meta-historical framework cannot be revised by history. If history delivers something incompatible with the framework, the framework declares the history not yet complete. The framework is unfalsifiable. This protects it from refutation but cuts it off from genuine engagement with what history does. Strauss can touch this position only obliquely, because the position concedes that historicism does not reach revelation.
The third response is the Goren-Sperber response. Treat history as the medium of revelation. Read events as carrying meaning. Generate normative claims from the readings. The cost is what Strauss diagnosed. The position is self-undermining. The reader of history cannot stand outside history. The meaning he reads is his own historical situation projected back as transcendent significance. The position works as long as one does not interrogate it. The interrogation dissolves it.
Modern Orthodoxy as an institutional formation has avoided choosing among these options by compartmentalizing. Different domains operate under different premises. The synagogue operates as if revelation is fixed. The university operates as if all texts are historical. The yeshiva operates as if the chain of mesorah is continuous. The history department operates as if the chain has internal ruptures the participants did not notice. The Modern Orthodox Jew lives across these compartments without integrating them. The compartmentalization is functional for many people. It is not philosophically stable. The point at which the compartments leak into each other is the point at which the crisis Sperber’s project produces becomes acute.
Goren and Hollander both display the compartmentalization. Goren did not philosophically defend his theology of history because he did not need to. Religious Zionism provided the institutional cover. The IDF provided employment. The Chief Rabbinate provided authority. The compartments held. Hollander does not philosophically defend his historicist sociology because he does not need to. The university provides the cover. The journal provides the venue. The disciplinary networks provide validation. The compartments hold.

Claims of “understanding history” are naive. They flow from the unexamined confidence that one’s reading of historical direction is more than one’s reading. Goren read 1948 and 1967 as redemptive because he had been formed in religious Zionism. Freyer read the early thirties as the awakening of Volk because he had been formed in German conservative revolutionary circles. Both believed their readings were objective discernments of historical direction. Both readings turned out to be heavily conditioned by the formation that produced them. Strauss saw this. Löwith saw this. Myers documented Jewish thinkers who saw it. The discipline of historical self-awareness is the discipline of recognizing that one’s reading of history is not history’s own reading.
Goren did not have this discipline. Hollander has the vocabulary of the discipline without the practice. Sperber has the institutional position to require the discipline of his readers but does not require it of himself.
Freyer believed History was unfolding toward German national-conservative redemption. History delivered something else. Freyer deradicalized but did not abandon his historicism. He revised the content of what History was doing while keeping the structure of historicist faith. Goren believed History was unfolding toward Jewish redemption. So far the unfolding has been ambiguous. The state exists. It has not delivered the messianic age. The Temple has not been rebuilt. The ingathering is incomplete. Many Jews remain secular. Religious Zionism has fragmented. The settler movement has produced moral crises that earlier religious Zionists did not anticipate. If the unfolding continues to disappoint, what becomes of Goren’s reading? The honest historicist position is that the reading must be revised. The religious-historicist tendency is to deny the disappointment, defer the messianic timeline, or reinterpret the events. None of these is intellectually stable.
Sperber reads contemporary moral consciousness as containing latent dimensions of Torah that modern conditions are disclosing. What if contemporary moral consciousness changes direction? What if the next generation finds Sperber’s particular humane principles insufficient or excessive? What if the spirit of the community becomes something Sperber would not endorse? The position requires that the historical direction continue to confirm Sperber’s reading. If it stops confirming the reading, the reading must be revised, which means the prior pesak must be revised, which means halakha becomes nakedly history-dependent. The supposed recovery of Torah’s authentic spirit collapses into historical contingency. Sperber’s framework gives him no resource to resist this collapse, because his framework is what made the collapse possible.
This is the unsolved problem at the center of all three projects. Goren never solved it. Hollander does not address it. Sperber does not address it. They proceed as if their reading of history is more secure than the structure of historicism allows. They proceed because the institutional incentives reward their proceeding. They proceed because the alternatives are intellectually demanding and emotionally costly. The problem remains. Strauss’s question still waits for an answer. Löwith’s question still waits for an answer. Myers documented the Jewish thinkers who tried to answer and recorded that none succeeded. Goren did not try. Hollander does not try. Sperber does not try. The trying is what the next generation of Modern Orthodox thinkers will have to do, if Modern Orthodoxy is to remain intellectually honest at the level its own conditions require.
The deradicalization of German conservatism that Muller chronicles in Freyer is the pattern by which a believer in History responds when History betrays him. He does not become a Leibowitz, refusing the whole game. He does not become a Yitzhak Breuer, putting his faith above history. He revises his reading and continues. The continuity is the deepest commitment. Freyer’s deepest commitment was not to Volk or Reich or even to Germany. His deepest commitment was to the proposition that History has meaning and that the intellectual can read it. Everything else was negotiable. This is the commitment Goren shared. This is the commitment Sperber shares. This is the commitment Hollander operates under without naming. The commitment is not Jewish. It is German. It came into Jewish thought through the German universities where the major figures of academic Jewish studies were trained. Myers’s book documents the importation. The importation has not been undone. Modern Orthodox academic halakha is a Jewish dialect of late German historicism, and the historicism does the structural work even when the Jewish content is sincere. To name this is not to dismiss it. It is to ask whether anyone in the Modern Orthodox world is willing to ask, of his own deepest commitments, whether he holds them because they are true or because the German universities of the late nineteenth century made them the conditions of intellectual respectability.
That is the question Goren did not ask. That is the question Hollander does not ask. That is the question Sperber does not ask. The question is not going away.
I give my answer here.

Posted in Hans Freyer, R. Shlomo Goren | Comments Off on When History Becomes Revelation: Goren, Freyer, and the Historicist Problem in Modern Orthodox Halakha

What Hollander Does Not Say: Pinsof’s Frame and the Coalitional Silences of a Religious Zionist Sociologist

David Pinsof’s essay “A Big Misunderstanding” attacks intellectuals who diagnose social pathologies as misunderstandings. The classic move: people are biased, ignorant, propagandized; the intellectual brings clarity; the problem dissolves once the diagnosis spreads. R. Aviad Hollander is not the intellectual Pinsof is critiquing. His work already operates in a register close to Pinsof’s own.
Look at what Hollander does across the essays. In “Danger, Slippery Slope!” he tracks how morale becomes a halakhic category inside military rabbinics. The argument is not that the IDF rabbinate has misunderstood the law. The argument is that institutional pressure expands legal categories in directions favorable to the institution. Pikuach nefesh covers combat necessity; combat necessity ramifies into morale; morale ramifies into general emotional stabilization; stabilization ramifies into administrative convenience. The category drifts under organizational pressure. This is the analysis Pinsof produces about cognitive science. The drift is not a cognitive failure. It is a structural feature of how categories operate when coalitions need them to do work.
In the eglah arufah essay, Hollander studies how a covenantal polity bounds its responsibility. The state cannot be omnipotent. The state cannot be evasive. Authority must be delegated, responsibility limited, jurisdiction defined. Constitutional theology at the level of how sovereignty functions, not a misunderstanding diagnosis.
In the household essay, Hollander locates civilizational reproduction in the bourgeois religious-Zionist family rather than in elite institutions. The decisive arena is the home of the working professional who tries to hold Torah, labor, marriage, citizenship, and modern culture in one personality. Sociology of religious transmission, not corrective intellectual labor. He asks how covenantal civilizations reproduce themselves under modern conditions, and his answer points to the boring middle stratum that nobody glamorizes.
In the Temple Mount essay with Eliav Taub, Hollander reconstructs how religious-Zionist halakhists negotiate the jurisprudential gap that opens when Jews acquire sovereignty after two millennia of dispossession. The decisors are not idiots and not ideologues. They are agents working with insufficient legal precedent for a situation classical halakha never anticipated.
In the military halakha pieces with Shlomo Goren (1917–1994) as a recurring reference, Hollander treats rabbinic innovation as an institutional response to sovereign vacuum. The vacuum is real. The improvisation is real. The pressures on the improviser are real. What looks like halakhic creativity from one angle looks like coalition service from another, and Hollander registers both without collapsing them into either.
In the Sperber study, Hollander refuses to caricature his subject as either reformer or traditionalist. He reconstructs Sperber as a hybrid intellectual type that emerges from the sociological conditions of contemporary Modern Orthodoxy. Sociological framing, not corrective.
So Hollander is closer to a fellow analyst of how institutions, categories, and coalitions function than to a target of Pinsof’s critique.
What Pinsof does add to a reading of Hollander.
A sharper edge on the gap between stated motives and actual operations. Hollander’s prose is patient and ecumenical. Pinsof’s is mordant. The mordancy can clarify what Hollander documents but does not always name. When Hollander shows military rabbis expanding the morale category to cover Sabbath travel for chaplains visiting troops, Pinsof’s frame asks whether the chaplain corps’ professional position depends on the expansion. Hollander’s prose lets you see the expansion. Pinsof’s prose lets you see the institutional interest driving the expansion.
A reminder that the misunderstanding diagnosis recurs within Hollander’s field even when it is absent from Hollander himself. Other Religious Zionist thinkers, less restrained, diagnose halakhic conservatism as a failure of historical imagination or diagnose halakhic innovation as a failure of textual seriousness. Pinsof’s essay arms the reader to spot these diagnoses and treat them as coalition moves rather than honest analyses.
The men who read Hollander at Bar-Ilan, Ariel, the Hesder yeshivot, and in the mid-tier Religious Zionist rabbinate constitute a coalition with interests in their leader’s interpretive sophistication. Hollander’s prose ratifies their position: serious, sociologically aware, neither Haredi nor Liberal Orthodox, capable of describing the tradition without flattening it. This position has its own incentives, its own audience, its own status logic. Hollander does not write outside a coalition any more than anyone else does, and his usual silence about his own coalitional position is one of the few places where Pinsof’s challenge bites.
What Pinsof misses when applied to Hollander.
Hollander treats the halakhic tradition as having internal moral content, not only coalitional content. His anxiety about morale category drift is anxiety about a real pathology, not a coalition complaining about another coalition. The eglah arufah essay worries about the moral cost of bureaucratized sovereignty.
The Pinsof frame works best on intellectuals whose stated mission diverges sharply from their operation. Hollander’s stated mission is sociological: describe how Religious Zionist halakhic reasoning operates under sovereignty, military modernity, institutional bureaucracy, and bourgeois home life. His operation matches the description. The gap between mission statement and operation is narrow. Pinsof’s frame does its best work where the gap is wide.
Hollander is not in the misunderstanding-correction business. He is mapping a problem and watching it. Pinsof’s challenge to misunderstanding-diagnosing intellectuals does not apply to intellectuals whose mode is descriptive sociology rather than prescriptive correction.
Hollander tracks category drift in military halakha but does not name the donor base, professional networks, and career paths that the IDF rabbinate’s institutional position depends on. He describes the householder as the locus of religious-Zionist transmission but does not press hard on the coalitional politics of who counts as a successful householder and who does not. He praises Sperber’s hybridity without examining the alliance between academic Jewish studies and the Open Orthodox movement that Sperber’s career has helped sustain. Pinsof’s frame highlights these absences. The absences are not failures. They mark the line Hollander has chosen not to cross. Crossing it would put him in a different coalition, and his current coalition has reasons for valuing the prose he produces from the line he has chosen.
Pinsof’s frame identifies Hollander’s own coalitional position, and gives vocabulary for what Hollander omits. Hollander understands that institutions shape categories, that elites pursue interests, and that sovereignty drives halakhic improvisation. He describes these things in a register more decorous than Pinsof’s. The two frames are compatible, working at adjacent registers on overlapping problems.

Posted in R. Aviad Hollander | Comments Off on What Hollander Does Not Say: Pinsof’s Frame and the Coalitional Silences of a Religious Zionist Sociologist