Brian Leiter: The Naturalist’s Program

Brian Leiter was born in 1963 in Manhattan, into a Jewish family. He went to Princeton and graduated with a philosophy degree in 1984. He then went to Michigan, where he took a law degree in 1987 and finished a doctorate in philosophy in 1995. The dissertation, on Nietzsche and the critique of morality, was directed by Peter Railton, with Elizabeth Anderson, Frithjof Bergmann, and Don Herzog on the committee. Raymond Geuss, Richard Rorty, and Stephen Darwall appear among his other formative influences.
Railton stands as a central figure in naturalistic moral philosophy. Anderson writes across political philosophy and epistemology with a strong empirical streak. Bergmann teaches Nietzsche as a philosopher serious about human flourishing. Leiter takes from them an orientation: philosophy answers to facts about persons and institutions, and the sharpest philosophical questions live at the seam between conceptual analysis and empirical inquiry. That orientation becomes the through-line of the career.
After a short period at the University of San Diego School of Law and a visiting philosophy post at UC San Diego, Leiter joined the University of Texas School of Law in 1995 and founded its Law and Philosophy Program. In 2008 he moved to the University of Chicago Law School as Karl N. Llewellyn Professor of Jurisprudence. At Chicago he founded the Center for Law, Philosophy and Human Values, which he still directs. He has edited the journal Legal Theory, the Routledge Philosophers book series, and with Leslie Green the annual Oxford Studies in Philosophy of Law. He has held visiting appointments at Yale, Oxford, University College London, and Paris X-Nanterre.
His first major project rehabilitates American Legal Realism. Before Leiter, most philosophers treated the Realists of the 1920s and 1930s as legal skeptics who reduced judicial decision to politics or personality. H.L.A. Hart dismissed them as confused about the nature of rules. Ronald Dworkin treated them as theoretically unserious. Leiter reads them differently. In a series of essays collected as Naturalizing Jurisprudence (2007), he argues that thinkers like Karl Llewellyn, Jerome Frank, and Felix Cohen offered a serious empirical claim about adjudication: formal legal doctrines underdetermine judicial outcomes in hard cases, so any adequate theory of law has to describe what in fact moves judges. Realism, read this way, is an early naturalist program within jurisprudence, continuous with the naturalism Quine and later philosophers brought to epistemology.
Naturalizing Jurisprudence by Brian Leiter. This book rereads American Legal Realism as the first serious attempt to bring empirical social science into general jurisprudence and defends a naturalized approach on which legal theory answers to facts about how courts decide cases. It also includes Leiter’s critique of Dworkin’s interpretivism and his version of methodological positivism about the concept of law.
The argument has two edges. One cuts against Dworkin’s interpretivism, which holds that legal theory must construct the best moral reading of a legal practice. Leiter rejects that picture. Legal concepts can be analyzed without importing moral justification into every claim about what the law is. The other edge cuts against crude Realism. Leiter accepts that formal doctrine does not predict outcomes in hard cases, but he pairs that empirical claim with a conceptual defense of positivism: the criteria for legal validity in any legal system are fixed by social facts about official practice, not by moral truth. The pairing lets him keep Hart’s core conceptual point while dropping Hart’s discomfort with Realism.
The Nietzsche work runs on parallel tracks. In Nietzsche on Morality (2002, second edition 2015), Leiter makes the case that Nietzsche offers a philosophical psychology of moral judgment. Nietzsche’s target is what Leiter calls Morality in the Pejorative Sense, MPS for short, the cluster of Christian and post-Christian ideas about pity, guilt, equality, and disinterested benevolence that treats these values as universally binding. Nietzsche’s critique, on this reading, is naturalistic: moral beliefs have causes, those causes often have little to do with moral truth, and the high valuations of MPS serve the interests of one type of person rather than the interests of higher types. The book reframes decades of Anglophone Nietzsche scholarship. It treats Nietzsche as a philosopher with empirical commitments and testable claims about human psychology.
Nietzsche on Morality presents Nietzsche as a philosophical naturalist whose genealogical critique of Christian morality rests on empirical claims about moral psychology and the social origins of value. It also develops Leiter’s reading of Nietzsche’s determinism and his rejection of free will.
Moral Psychology with Nietzsche (2019) extends the project. Leiter argues that Nietzsche anticipates findings in contemporary empirical moral psychology about the sources of moral judgment, the limits of rational deliberation, and the role of drives and affects. He separates Nietzsche’s best supported claims from the speculative ones. The book also treats free will, which Leiter thinks Nietzsche rejects on grounds close to those that motivate contemporary skepticism about libertarian agency.
The Marx book, co-authored with Jaime Edwards and published in 2025, completes a triangle implicit in the work for a long time. Marx, Nietzsche, and Freud share a stance toward moral claims: they treat them as surface effects of deeper causes, whether class interest, drive and affect, or unconscious conflict. Leiter has called these three the naturalistic tradition in Continental philosophy, against the neo-Kantian and phenomenological strands. The Marx book defends a philosophical reading of Marx that emphasizes realism about ideology, skepticism about moral appeals in political argument, and attention to the material conditions that shape what people come to believe.
Marx presents Marx as a philosopher whose critique of capitalism rests on realism about human nature, skepticism about moralized political discourse, and a theory of ideology as belief shaped by class position. It treats Marx’s ethical claims as instrumental to a broader empirical analysis.
Why Tolerate Religion? (2013) is the most politically exposed book Leiter has written. The argument starts with a simple question. Most liberal democracies give religious belief special legal protection beyond what they give to other beliefs of conscience. What justifies that asymmetry? Leiter examines the main candidate answers: that religious beliefs hold great importance to believers, that they rest on clear claims to truth, that they deserve respect because they shape identity. He finds each answer inadequate. Religious beliefs often rest on poor evidence and demand insulation from revision, which on his view makes them a weak candidate for special legal treatment. He concludes that a principled liberalism should protect liberty of conscience across the board and drop the preferential treatment of religion. The book angered legal scholars who defend robust religious exemptions and philosophers who want a richer account of religious experience. It pushed the debate into sharper focus.
Why Tolerate Religion? by Brian Leiter. This book argues that liberal democracies have no principled basis for giving religious conviction more legal protection than other beliefs of conscience and that general liberty of conscience should replace special religious accommodation.
A single philosophical program runs through these books. Leiter is a naturalist in ethics, in philosophy of law, in political theory, and in Nietzsche interpretation. He treats moral and legal concepts as tools of human practice, traces their origins to empirical facts about human beings and institutions, and resists attempts to read moral truths into the structure of concepts. He pairs this with methodological positivism in jurisprudence, which holds that law and morality are distinct objects of analysis, and with a realist temperament in political philosophy, which treats moralized political argument with suspicion.
The next book, From a Realist Point of View, is forthcoming from Oxford in 2026. Recent papers around it, including “What the Realists Got Right” and work on free speech and epistemic authority on the internet, suggest Leiter might push the realist impulse outward from jurisprudence into political theory and democratic epistemology. He argues that current anxiety about free speech online overstates the value of broad expressive liberty under conditions where epistemic institutions have lost credibility. The argument sits comfortably with neither of the dominant camps in the free speech debate.
A few traits show up across the work. Leiter prefers small questions with clear answers to large questions with grand answers. He cites evidence. He takes empirical psychology seriously and checks philosophical claims against it. He writes clean prose, unusual for a philosopher working across jurisprudence and Nietzsche. He picks fights, including with Dworkin, with moral realists, with religious accommodationists, and with parts of analytic philosophy he views as evasive. The fights serve the underlying commitment. Naturalism in philosophy treats inquiry as a continuous human activity, not an isolated conceptual exercise, and it expects philosophers to say where the evidence lies and what might change their minds.
Leiter has also done a great deal of editorial work. The Routledge Philosophers series brings shorter, rigorous books on major thinkers into print across languages. Oxford Studies in Philosophy of Law, co-edited with Leslie Green, publishes work in general jurisprudence. The Oxford Handbook of Continental Philosophy (2007), co-edited with Michael Rosen, presses against the analytic-Continental divide that Leiter has treated as a historical accident. His own work on Nietzsche, Marx, and Freud is the clearest instance of that practice.
The Philosophical Gourmet Report, which Leiter founded in 1989 as a graduate student and edited for twenty-five years before turning it over to Berit Brogaard and Christopher Pynes, sits alongside the scholarship. He has said that he took it on because the field lacked decent public information about where strong work happens. A separate set of law school rankings focuses on scholarly impact by citation.
What holds the intellectual life together is a distrust of moralized self-descriptions and a preference for causal ones. Naturalism in Leiter’s hands is less a technical doctrine about supervenience or reduction than a stance. It says that law, morality, religion, and politics are human activities with histories, and that the philosopher’s job is to describe them as they are before rendering verdicts. He applies that stance to Nietzsche, to the Legal Realists, to Marx, to contemporary liberal theories of religious tolerance, and to current debates about speech and epistemic authority.

Alliance Theory aka Strange Bedfellows

Leiter operates as a public intellectual whose influence inside academic philosophy exceeds what his scholarly output alone might produce. The combination of scholarly production, institutional gatekeeping through the Gourmet Report, and public-facing commentary through the blog gives him a coalition function unusually legible because all three operations show in the public record.
The standard treatments read him variously. Admirers treat him as a rigorous scholar who has built valuable institutional infrastructure and who says on his blog what colleagues think but will not say themselves. Critics treat him as a philosophical enforcer whose influence rests on intimidation, whose Gourmet Report has coalition-shaped biases, and whose blog’s combative style has damaged professional discourse. The Alliance Theory reading does not pick between these descriptions. Both capture real features. The framework asks a different question: what coalition does Leiter serve, how does his combination of activities reinforce coalition interests, and what coalition-rational silences and asymmetries does his output display?
The primary coalition Leiter serves is the analytically-trained philosophical left, a formation inside academic philosophy that has become institutionally dominant at elite departments over the last four decades. The coalition is not identical to academic philosophy as a whole. Academic philosophy contains multiple coalitions with distinct interests: the analytically-trained philosophical left Leiter serves, the more conservative-adjacent analytic tradition that produced figures like Peter van Inwagen and Alvin Plantinga, the continental philosophy community Leiter has targeted for decline, the experimental philosophy coalition analyzed in the Doris essay, the history of philosophy specialists, the feminist philosophy and philosophy of race communities that have carved out their own coalition territory, and traditionalist formations in ethics and political philosophy that resist the dominant coalition’s methods.
Leiter’s coalition has substantive commitments. A broadly left-liberal political orientation, in Leiter’s case Marxist-adjacent, which distinguishes him from most of his coalition allies. Commitment to naturalism in philosophy, meaning resistance to supernatural or non-naturalistic metaphysical claims. Secularism in public life, including opposition to religious exemptions from anti-discrimination law and skepticism toward religious reasoning in public policy. Opposition to what the coalition considers pseudo-philosophical traditions: most continental philosophy from Heidegger forward, most postmodern theory, most figures whose work the coalition treats as obscurantist. Commitments in moral philosophy that align with evolutionary and psychological naturalism. Commitments in legal philosophy that align with legal realism and skepticism toward natural law approaches. Commitments in philosophy of mind that align with physicalism against dualism and against stronger versions of representationalism. The coalition’s substantive positions cohere internally in ways that map onto Leiter’s published work across his career.
Pinsof’s four criteria describe the coalition with precision.
Similarity operates through markers. PhD from a top-ranked analytic philosophy program, increasingly concentrated at Michigan, Princeton, NYU, Rutgers, Pittsburgh, MIT, Harvard, Berkeley, and a short list of allied departments. Publication in the top philosophy journals: Philosophical Review, Mind, Noûs, Journal of Philosophy, Ethics, and the sub-field journals that mark membership. Fluency in the vocabulary the coalition uses: naturalistic, explanatory, empirically constrained, philosophically serious, rigorous, continental as an epithet. Hostility toward rival traditions: analytic philosophy of religion with theological commitments, most continental philosophy, much of the history of philosophy as practiced outside analytic reconstruction. Comfort with the aesthetic and cultural markers of secular academic professionalism. Willingness to engage with empirical work from cognitive science, evolutionary biology, and psychology as sources of philosophical constraint. Leiter displays all these markers at the senior level. His coalition recognizes him through them.
Transitivity clusters him with allies. Philip Kitcher at Columbia, an older senior figure whose naturalist commitments parallel Leiter’s. Kwame Anthony Appiah at NYU, though the relationship is more complicated. Susan Haack at Miami, an ally on methodological questions. Peter Railton at Michigan, on moral naturalism. Jerry Fodor before his death, on philosophy of mind naturalism. Daniel Dennett before his decline and death, on evolution and consciousness. The cluster has rivals whose reputations Leiter has worked to diminish: Martha Nussbaum at Chicago (complicated because she is his departmental colleague, but their intellectual traditions stand in tension), Slavoj Žižek across multiple appointments, the broader continental philosophy community, John Searle before Searle’s professional collapse (Leiter was critical of Searle’s work before the sexual misconduct allegations), figures in analytic philosophy of religion like Plantinga, Richard Swinburne, and their students. The rivalry patterns hold consistent across the cluster.
Interdependence runs through Leiter’s multiple activities in ways that illuminate how a coalition rewards a senior figure who serves multiple functions. Chicago provides the senior tenured chair that makes everything else possible. The coalition provides the graduate students, the co-authors, the journal placements, the conference invitations, and the broader infrastructure that sustains his scholarly career. The Philosophical Gourmet Report has provided coalition-amplifying influence: Leiter’s rankings have shaped which departments graduate students apply to, which faculty searches succeed at attracting top candidates, and which sub-fields are treated as central versus peripheral. The Gourmet Report’s effects on the profession are real and substantial. They reflect and reinforce the coalition’s preferences about what counts as good philosophy. The blog, Leiter Reports, provides a platform for coalition policing that operates faster than journal publication and reaches a wider audience than academic writing typically reaches. The three activities reinforce each other. Each amplifies the others. The combination gives Leiter more coalition-effective influence than any single activity might produce.
Stochasticity applies. The coalition Leiter serves consolidated during a period when analytic philosophy expanded its institutional position against continental and traditional rivals. Had the expansion happened differently, had certain departments taken different directions during the 1980s and 1990s when the current coalition consolidated, had the combination of methodological and political commitments that defines the coalition not formed when it did, Leiter’s career opportunities might have been different. The Philosophical Gourmet Report is a contingent institutional development. Rankings existed before it. The form Leiter’s rankings took, and the influence they achieved, reflected a historical opportunity the coalition needed filled. Leiter filled it. A different figure with different methods might have filled it differently. The retrospective appearance that Leiter’s rise was natural reflects the coalition’s success, not some intrinsic inevitability of his trajectory.
The three propagandistic biases run through Leiter’s work in identifiable ways, though the operation is unusually visible because Leiter’s combative style makes his coalition commitments explicit in places where more diplomatic figures keep them implicit.
Perpetrator biases protect coalition allies and direct scrutiny at rivals. When senior figures in Leiter’s coalition face professional problems or public controversies, his blog’s treatment tends toward the protective: the allegations are exaggerated, the context has been misunderstood, the critics have coalition-rival motivations. When figures in rival coalitions face similar problems, the treatment amplifies rather than minimizes: the allegations are taken seriously, the problems are seen as revealing of larger patterns, the rival is held to standards the coalition does not consistently apply to its own members. The asymmetry is not total. Leiter has been willing to criticize coalition members when criticism was unavoidable, and he has occasionally defended figures in rival coalitions when allegations seemed unfounded. The pattern across many cases reveals the direction of drift the framework predicts.
Philosophical sexual misconduct cases illustrate the pattern. When allegations have surfaced against senior analytic philosophers with coalition-aligned positions, Leiter’s treatment has often emphasized procedural concerns, the rights of the accused, and the damage that unsubstantiated allegations do to academic careers. When allegations have surfaced against figures in rival traditions (continental, religious, conservative), the same concerns have received less emphasis and the allegations have received more credulous treatment. This is not evidence of misconduct by Leiter or of bad faith in his treatment of any individual case. It is evidence of the coalition-rational pattern Pinsof’s framework predicts: cases of allies get protective framings, cases of rivals get damaging framings. The pattern shows across dozens of cases Leiter has addressed over twenty years of blogging.
The bias also protects Leiter from self-audit. He has been criticized repeatedly for the Gourmet Report’s methodology, for the blog’s tone, and for interventions critics have treated as coalition enforcement. The responses to these criticisms have not produced substantial methodological revision. The Gourmet Report’s general structure has remained stable across editions. The blog’s tone has remained recognizable. The interventions that produced controversy have been defended rather than retracted. A figure operating with openness to criticism might produce more methodological change in response to sustained criticism than Leiter has produced. The resistance to change is coalition-rational because the coalition benefits from the structures the criticisms target. Changing the structures might weaken the coalition’s position. Maintaining them preserves the coalition’s influence. Pinsof’s framework predicts the maintenance and Leiter’s trajectory supplies it.
Trivers’s self-deception finding applies. Leiter probably experiences his judgments as following philosophical merit and the evidence where it leads. The experience is the coalition’s asset. A figure who consciously performed coalition work might be less effective at it because the awareness might alter the output in detectable ways. Leiter’s work shows no marks of conscious coalition performance. It shows the marks of sincere intellectual commitment that happens to produce coalition-serving conclusions with high reliability.
Victim biases operate across registers. Academic philosophy’s left coalition narrates as besieged from multiple directions. Conservative pressure from state legislatures threatens public universities. The Religious Right continues to press for accommodations that might compromise academic naturalism. Administrative bureaucracy has expanded at the expense of faculty governance. Corporate capture of universities threatens traditional faculty protections. The public has lost interest in philosophy as a serious discipline. The humanities are in crisis, philosophy included. Leiter’s blog deploys these narratives at various points, sometimes with accuracy, sometimes with the mobilization-serving intensity Pinsof’s framework predicts.
The narrative is not empty. Pressures on academic philosophy are real. The humanities have faced real institutional challenges. But the coalition’s position within academic philosophy remains dominant at elite departments, well-funded relative to most humanities fields, and capable of directing significant resources toward its preferred projects. The beleaguered framing captures real concerns but miscounts the coalition’s institutional position. The coalition uses the framing to mobilize support from members who might otherwise not recognize how much they have to lose. Leiter’s blog amplifies the framing at rates appropriate to its coalition function.
Competitive victimhood operates cross-coalition in the standard way. Conservative philosophers narrate their marginalization by Leiter and the coalition he represents. Religious philosophers narrate their exclusion from the top departments Leiter’s rankings favor. Continental philosophers narrate their displacement by the analytic tradition Leiter defends. Each rival coalition points at real phenomena. Each exceeds the evidence in ways that serve coalition mobilization. The cross-coalition symmetry the framework predicts appears across the philosophical landscape.
Attributional biases govern the treatment of philosophical work inside and outside the coalition. Work by coalition members that succeeds receives internal attributions: the work reflects the author’s rigor, methodological seriousness, and commitment to philosophical excellence. Work by rivals that succeeds despite coalition opposition receives external attributions: the success reflects factors other than philosophical merit, like marketing, celebrity, or the credulity of audiences who have not been trained to recognize philosophical quality. Work by coalition members that fails receives external attributions: the work faced unfair reviewers, the field has not yet caught up to the approach, the institutional constraints on publication limited what the author could do. Work by rivals that fails receives internal attributions: the failure reflects the approach’s fundamental problems, the author’s methodological limitations, the tradition’s inability to produce rigorous results.
This attributional pattern shapes the Gourmet Report’s rankings. Departments strong in coalition-favored sub-fields (philosophy of mind, epistemology, philosophy of language, moral philosophy as the coalition does it, legal philosophy in Leiter’s naturalist vein) receive rankings that emphasize their strength. Departments strong in coalition-disfavored sub-fields (philosophy of religion, continental philosophy, history of philosophy as traditionally practiced) receive rankings that reflect the lower weight the coalition assigns to these areas. The rankings are not arbitrary. They reflect coalition judgments about what counts as important philosophical work. Graduate students who follow the rankings end up sorted into departments where the coalition’s priorities shape their training. The coalition reproduces through the ranking apparatus. Leiter’s design choices structure the reproduction.
The strange bedfellows inside Leiter’s coalition deserve attention. The coalition contains philosophical naturalists whose commitments include a secular worldview alongside figures whose personal religious observance continues despite professional commitments that sit in tension with it. It contains left-liberal political philosophers alongside figures whose politics are more explicitly Marxist, including Leiter whose Marxism distinguishes him from most coalition allies. It contains feminist philosophers who have carved out their own sub-coalition with its own commitments, alongside figures whose engagement with feminist philosophy has been limited or critical. It contains critical race theorists and philosophers of race alongside figures whose work in these areas has been peripheral. It contains figures drawn to experimental philosophy alongside figures who have resisted the experimental turn. It contains figures who treat philosophy as continuous with cognitive science alongside figures who maintain traditional philosophical methods despite the coalition’s broader naturalistic commitments.
No consistent principle unites these positions. Shared opposition to rival coalitions (religious philosophy, continental philosophy, conservative political philosophy, traditional metaphysics with dualist or theological commitments) holds the coalition together. The coalition manages its internal tensions through the standard Pinsof methods: emphasis on external rivals as the basis for unity, downplay of internal disagreements about methodological and substantive positions, and maintenance of a broad coalition vocabulary that permits members to hold their positions without requiring explicit coalition positions on the disagreements. Leiter’s work contributes to the management by producing blog content that addresses shared concerns, attacks shared rivals, and leaves the internal coalition tensions largely unaddressed. The contribution is coalition-rational and the coalition rewards it.
The fourth Pinsof question: what truths might Leiter have to give up if his current coalition shifted? The answer is substantial. His Chicago chair depends on continued recognition by his coalition that his work merits the position. The Gourmet Report depends on continued coalition trust that his rankings are legitimate rather than coalition infrastructure. The blog depends on continued coalition willingness to treat his interventions as authoritative rather than partisan. His scholarly positions depend on continued coalition acceptance of naturalist and secularist premises that underwrite his work. If the coalition shifted, or if Leiter shifted against it, multiple pillars of his influence might erode at once. The costs of coalition defection are substantial. Pinsof’s model predicts he will not incur them. Coalition intellectuals do not audit the coalitions that make their careers possible, regardless of their self-image as independent thinkers.
The truths Leiter cannot say, without damaging his coalition position, include that the Gourmet Report’s methodology reflects coalition preferences. He cannot say that the blog’s treatment of figures has applied asymmetric standards across coalition lines. He cannot say that senior coalition figures whose work he has defended have produced work whose quality his treatment has overstated. He cannot say that rival coalition figures whose work he has attacked have produced work whose quality his treatment has understated. He cannot say that his Marxist political commitments sit in tension with aspects of the coalition he serves, which is not Marxist and whose broader liberal orientation has absorbed Marxist-inflected work selectively. He cannot say that the Gourmet Report’s influence on graduate student career choices has contributed to coalition-serving patterns in the reproduction of the profession that he benefits from. He cannot say that the blog’s combative style has become coalition infrastructure that protects the coalition from criticism the coalition might otherwise have to address more seriously. Writers do not tell these truths. Leiter does not tell them.
Leiter’s Marxism complicates the analysis. Most of the coalition he serves is not Marxist. The coalition is broadly left-liberal, socially progressive, methodologically naturalist, and substantively aligned with the broader Rawlsian tradition the last essay examined. Leiter’s Marxism sits uncomfortably inside this coalition. His work on Nietzsche, which treats Nietzsche as a thinker worth taking seriously despite his political implications, his work on Marxist legal theory, and his willingness to defend Marxist positions place him on one edge of the coalition. The edge position serves the coalition in several ways. It gives the coalition a senior figure who can speak to left-Marxist positions without the coalition as a whole having to adopt them. It gives the coalition intellectual range that a more uniformly Rawlsian-analytic lineup might not display. It lets the coalition claim methodological pluralism while maintaining its dominant institutional position.
The edge position also produces tensions. Leiter’s more explicitly Marxist positions do not travel well with all coalition members. His defenses of Marxist figures, his critiques of liberal positions from a Marxist angle, and his willingness to engage with continental Marxist traditions place him at a different point on the coalition spectrum than most of his senior allies. The coalition manages these tensions. Leiter emphasizes the naturalism and secularism that unite the coalition rather than the Marxism that distinguishes him. The coalition accepts his edge position because the other functions he performs (Gourmet Report, blog, scholarly work) outweigh the marginal tension the Marxism creates. The arrangement is stable. Pinsof’s framework predicts this kind of edge-accommodating coalition structure and Leiter’s position inside his coalition illustrates it.
The blog performs multiple coalition functions. It identifies rivals for coalition members to oppose. It surfaces coalition positions in real time across evolving controversies. It provides coalition members with talking points and framings for their own use. It disciplines figures who violate coalition expectations, through attention that amplifies their critics and sidelines their defenders. It serves as a reputation-management site where coalition-favored figures receive protective treatment and coalition-rival figures receive damaging treatment. These functions are coalition work performed at high intensity. The blog’s readership inside academic philosophy exceeds any other single venue for professional news and commentary. The concentration of attention on a single coalition-aligned blog has given Leiter a coalition-enforcement capacity that no previous figure in academic philosophy has possessed.
Graduate students calibrate their public statements against what Leiter might blog about them. Faculty calibrate their public positions against potential Leiter attention. Departments calibrate their hiring and tenure decisions against coalition reactions Leiter’s blog both reflects and shapes. The calibration is rational given the capacity. Pinsof’s framework predicts that a single coalition-aligned figure with concentrated attention will produce this calibration in the population that depends on the coalition’s continued favor. Leiter has produced the predicted effect. The effect reflects the coalition’s power and his position as its most concentrated amplifier.
Leiter entered legal academia and then philosophy during the 1990s. His career has tracked the consolidation of the analytic philosophy coalition at elite departments and the institutional position it now occupies. The junior generation of philosophers has been shaped by a landscape where Leiter’s rankings, the blog, and the broader coalition infrastructure have been the background conditions of professional life. The junior philosophers have been more coalition-shaped than Leiter was, because the coalition’s institutional dominance was less complete when Leiter was a junior scholar. The trajectory matters because it suggests the coalition’s influence runs deeper in younger scholars than in the senior figures who built it. Pinsof’s framework predicts this deepening of coalition effect across generations and the predictions hold in the philosophy profession as in the legal academy and in international relations.
Jason Stanley at Yale occupies a parallel position inside a partially distinct coalition formation, one that has moved further toward explicit political engagement than the coalition Leiter serves. His work on propaganda, epistemology, and political philosophy has produced public-facing books that travel well in coalition-aligned venues. Stanley and Leiter have had public disagreements on various questions, which illustrates the framework’s expectation that coalition allies will sometimes differ while remaining inside the same broader coalition.
Elizabeth Anderson at Michigan occupies another parallel position. Her work on political philosophy, economic justice, and the ethics of workplaces has made her a major figure in the same broad coalition. Her style differs from Leiter’s substantially, with less combative engagement and more constructive theoretical work. She serves the coalition differently than Leiter does but serves the same broader coalition. The different styles reflect different coalition functions. The coalition benefits from having multiple figures who serve different functions at different registers.
Kwame Anthony Appiah, though his relationship with Leiter has been strained at points, occupies another position in the broader coalition. His work on cosmopolitanism, identity, and the ethics of race has made him a central public voice. His more diplomatic style contrasts with Leiter’s. The contrast illustrates the coalition’s capacity to include figures with different temperaments as long as they serve coalition interests.
Amia Srinivasan at Oxford represents a younger generation that has taken the coalition’s commitments in directions Leiter has sometimes been uncomfortable with. Her work on sex, politics, and philosophy has achieved substantial public reach through venues the coalition values. Her position illustrates how the coalition absorbs younger figures whose emphases differ from senior figures’ while the broader coalition commitments remain consistent.

Leiter Under Hugo Mercier and John M. Doris

Mercier’s core claim is that humans are not gullible. Applied to Leiter’s audience, this means philosophers reading Leiter Reports or using the PGR are not manipulated into positions they did not already hold. They are not dupes absorbing Leiter’s framings because he is a charismatic gatekeeper. Whatever the PGR does, it does not create beliefs about program quality in philosophers who might otherwise have held different beliefs. It organizes and coordinates beliefs that already exist in the profession about the strengths of various programs.
Critics of the PGR were not claiming that Leiter was brainwashing philosophers into believing the wrong things about program quality. They were claiming that the metric, operating with Leiter’s editorial control, amplified and stabilized one coalitional position within analytic philosophy and made it harder for alternatives to get traction. This is a coordination claim, not a persuasion claim. It fits Mercier’s framework because it does not require assuming the audience is gullible. The audience runs its own vigilance on its own views; the PGR affects which views get coordinated visibility and institutional reinforcement.
The September 2014 open letter asking Leiter to step down from the PGR was signed by hundreds of philosophers. These were not dupes waking up from his influence. They were philosophers whose prior views made them ready to challenge the ranking when a triggering incident produced an opening. The incident, Leiter’s hostile email to Carrie Jenkins, gave the existing critical coalition something to organize around. The coalition had been building through prior episodes. The 2014 moment was when it reached sufficient organization to act collectively. Mercier’s framework predicts this pattern. Coalitions with aligned commitments coordinate when triggering events give them organizational opportunity, not when arguments persuade them into new positions.
Leiter’s position depended on the absence of such coordination among his critics. Individual critics faced coordination problems. Nobody wanted to be the first to publicly oppose him, because the cost to anyone acting alone was high while the benefit depended on others also acting. The 2014 letter solved the coordination problem by providing a focal point around which many philosophers could declare their positions at once. Once the coordination happened, Leiter’s influence shifted because the dispersed criticism he had previously faced became concentrated collective action.
The influence does not rest on successful persuasion of neutral audiences. It rests on coordination advantages the platform provides to coalitions. When the coordination advantages flip to the critical coalition, as happened with the open letter, the platform’s influence shifts. Leiter’s diminished role with PGR after 2014 reflects this shift, not any change in the philosophical arguments about ranking methodology.
Now Doris.
Leiter’s documented behavior across many incidents has a particular pattern. Public aggression toward philosophers over perceived slights. Aggressive response to criticism. Willingness to expend reputational capital on disputes. This pattern is sometimes described dispositionally: Leiter is combative, Leiter has a difficult personality, Leiter cannot let things go. The dispositional framing treats the pattern as expressing a stable Leiter-character.
Doris complicates this. Situations that reward certain behaviors produce the pattern. Leiter’s blog platform rewards combative posts because they generate engagement. His institutional security at Chicago absorbs reputational costs that might damage philosophers without comparable security. His network of allies provides support that sustains him through disputes that might isolate others. His scholarly reputation gives him credibility to deploy in attacks that scholars without that reputation could not make. The combination of situational features produces the behavior pattern.
A Leiter without the blog might not produce blog-shaped behavior. A Leiter without Chicago tenure might not have produced the behavior pattern at the same volume because the costs might have been higher. A Leiter in a different coalitional moment within philosophy might have faced different incentives. The pattern we observe is the product of situational features operating on whatever capacities Leiter brings to them. Other philosophers with similar capacities in similar situations might produce broadly similar patterns. Leiter in different situations might produce different patterns.
Take the Carrie Jenkins episode that triggered the 2014 letter. The email was not simply an expression of Leiter’s character. The situation produced the behavior: a perceived slight, an audience context, a state of Leiter’s relationships with PGR critics, a moment when his habitual modes of response did not track the shifting coalitional ground beneath him. The email was miscalibrated for the situation. The miscalibration reveals something about how situational assessment can fail when the assessor’s habitual patterns track prior situations that no longer apply.
Behaviors that served situational purposes during an earlier period do not always serve the same purposes as situations shift. A Leiter whose aggressive responses had intimidated critics during one period might continue producing aggressive responses after the coalitional situation had shifted enough that the responses produced coordination. The same behavior produces different effects as situations change.

The Great Delusion

In his 2018 book, The Great Delusion: Liberal Dreams and International Realities, John J. Mearsheimer wrote:

My view is that we are profoundly social beings from the start to the finish of our lives and that individualism is of secondary importance… Liberalism downplays the social nature of human beings to the point of almost ignoring it, instead treating people largely as atomistic actors… Political liberalism… is an ideology that is individualistic at its core and assigns great importance to the concept of inalienable rights. This concern for rights is the basis of its universalism—everyone on the planet has the same inherent set of rights—and this is what motivates liberal states to pursue ambitious foreign policies. The public and scholarly discourse about liberalism since World War II has placed enormous emphasis on what are commonly called human rights. This is true all around the world, not just in the West. “Human rights,” Samuel Moyn notes, “have come to define the most elevated aspirations of both social movements and political entities—state and interstate. They evoke hope and provoke action.”
[Humans] do not operate as lone wolves but are born into social groups or societies that shape their identities well before they can assert their individualism. Moreover, individuals usually develop strong attachments to their group and are sometimes willing to make great sacrifices for their fellow members. Humans are often said to be tribal at their core. The main reason for our social nature is that the best way for a person to survive is to be embedded in a society and to cooperate with fellow members rather than act alone… Despite its elevated ranking, reason is the least important of the three ways we determine our preferences. It certainly is less important than socialization. The main reason socialization matters so much is that humans have a long childhood in which they are protected and nurtured by their families and the surrounding society, and meanwhile exposed to intense socialization. At the same time, they are only beginning to develop their critical faculties, so they are not equipped to think for themselves. By the time an individual reaches the point where his reasoning skills are well developed, his family and society have already imposed an enormous value infusion on him. Moreover, that individual is born with innate sentiments that also strongly influence how he thinks about the world around him. All of this means that people have limited choice in formulating a moral code, because so much of their thinking about right and wrong comes from inborn attitudes and socialization.

If Mearsheimer (b. 1947) has the better picture of man, Brian Leiter’s project faces several problems.
Leiter calls himself a naturalist about law. He reads Nietzsche (1844-1900) as a moral psychologist who sees moral judgments as expressions of psychological type. On that score Leiter and Mearsheimer overlap. Both reject the picture of man as a sovereign rational chooser who selects his values from a menu. Both treat moral life as something deeper than argument, something rooted in temperament and inheritance. A Leiter who stayed close to that descriptive line could absorb Mearsheimer without too much pain.
The trouble starts when Leiter moves from descriptive naturalism to political prescription.
Leiter’s Why Tolerate Religion? argues that religious belief deserves no special legal accommodation because it has no special epistemic standing. The argument operates within liberal premises. Citizens are individuals. Their commitments are claims they bring to a neutral state. The state weighs claims by their merits. Religion, on Leiter’s account, brings nothing that earns extra weight.
If Mearsheimer is right, this framing collapses. Citizens are not individuals first. They are tribesmen first, citizens second. Their religious commitments are not preferences they have selected but inheritances that form them before they can think. The state is not a neutral arbiter weighing claims. It is an arena where coalitions push their visions of the good. Liberal proceduralism becomes a coalition posture, the posture of a post-Enlightenment Western intellectual class that treats its own sentiments as universal. Leiter’s case against religious accommodation then loses its footing. He needs the liberal frame to make the argument work. Once you grant Mearsheimer’s premise, the secular case looks like one tribe trying to displace another tribe’s claims, not reason correcting superstition.
A second problem hits Leiter’s broader stance toward religious belief. Leiter treats religious claims as epistemically deficient. He thinks religion gets a free pass secular ideologies do not get. But if reason plays the small role Mearsheimer assigns it, secular liberal commitments stand on the same kind of ground religious commitments stand on. Both come from socialization. Both rest on innate sentiment shaped by tribal belonging. The asymmetry Leiter assumes between religion and secularism dissolves. The professor reading Hume to undergraduates and the rabbi reading Torah to his congregation are doing the same thing under different costumes. Each transmits the moral sense of a coalition. Each speaks with the voice of his tribe.
A third problem reaches further. Leiter writes as a philosopher who can stand outside his tribe and reason about law and morality. His tone presupposes a critical distance the philosopher takes from the tribal commitments of the populace. Mearsheimer’s picture says this distance is fictive. The philosopher sits inside a tribe of his own, the modern research university, with its rituals, hierarchies, and creeds. His critiques of religion and traditional authority track the interests of that tribe. His sense that he is reasoning while others are believing is the standard self-image any tribe gives its priests.
Leiter’s naturalized jurisprudence survives better. He thinks law is what social practice makes it. He draws on empirical work. Mearsheimer’s picture fits inside that frame. It reorients which social facts deserve weight. Coalition belonging, tribal sentiment, the long childhood of value infusion, these become primary data for the legal naturalist. The descriptive part of Leiter’s project can absorb Mearsheimer.
Leiter’s political voice runs liberal. He defends academic freedom, free speech, secular public reason. Mearsheimer’s picture says these commitments rest on a false anthropology. Men are not the rational individuals liberalism imagines. The liberal project might still be defended on other grounds, that it produces good outcomes, that it suits modern complex societies, that the alternatives produce worse outcomes, but it loses its claim to flow from the nature of man.
Liberalism in its classical form draws strength from a picture of man as rational, autonomous, rights-bearing. Strip that picture away and liberalism becomes one tribal arrangement among others, defensible perhaps on consequentialist grounds but no longer the natural condition reason discovers when it clears away superstition. Leiter’s work, like much of liberal legal philosophy, has carried on as if the older picture still held. Mearsheimer’s challenge runs to that whole inheritance, not to Leiter alone.
Leiter’s Nietzsche should have prepared him for Mearsheimer. Nietzsche treats herd morality, tribal sentiment, the smallness of the rationalist self-image as standing themes. A Nietzschean ought to find Mearsheimer congenial. That Leiter still writes within a liberal frame suggests the frame holds him more tightly than his theoretical commitments admit. The socialization Mearsheimer describes catches even philosophers who think they have seen through it.

Watergate as Democratic Ritual & Cultural Trauma

Analytic philosophy in the second half of the twentieth century built its own civil religion. Its sacred values were rigor, argumentative transparency, technical competence, conceptual clarity, and the willingness to follow the argument where it leads. Its profane categories were sloppiness, obscurantism, posturing, ad hominem, and the substitution of literary performance for argument. The boundary between the two was patrolled by senior figures at elite departments who decided who belonged and who did not. By the 1990s the boundary had a name in Leiter’s vocabulary: the line between philosophy and what he called party tricks.
Leiter takes up this priestly office and modernizes it. The Philosophical Gourmet Report, which he founded in 1989 and ran for decades, is a ritual instrument. It publishes a ranked list of philosophy PhD programs that fixes the symbolic order of the discipline at any given moment. Departments rise and fall on the list. The list shapes who applies where, who hires whom, who reads whose work. Alexander’s category of symbolic classification fits the PGR with no translation. The list sorts the pure from the impure at the level of institutions. The blog Leiter Reports sorts at the level of individuals. Together the two instruments perform the same function the Senate hearings performed in 1973: they declare in public who stands inside the sacred order and who has been touched by pollution.
The vocabulary Leiter uses on the blog is the giveaway. Charlatan. Fraud. Crank. Hack. Pseudo-philosopher. Intellectually dishonest. Not a serious thinker. These are not analytical terms. They are ritual terms. They mark the target as belonging to the profane category, outside the sacred boundary, contaminating to anyone who treats him as a peer. Alexander’s pollution logic states the rule: contact with a polluting source transfers pollution. Leiter’s blog enforces the rule by making the contact visible. To cite the named figure approvingly, to invite him to a conference, to publish him in a respectable venue, is to risk pollution transfer. The blog’s readership consists in part of younger philosophers who treat the marks as warnings about whom to keep distance from.
The ritual function explains a feature of the blog that puzzles outsiders. The same handful of figures get attacked across many years, with no apparent argumentative escalation, no concession, no willingness to reopen the question. Alexander’s frame explains the pattern. Once a pollution mark is placed it must be maintained. To stop attacking the figure is to risk the suggestion that the contamination has cleared. The repetition is liturgical, not argumentative.
Alexander’s first question asks what the pain is. Leiter’s body of work supplies a sustained answer. The pain is the decline of philosophical standards under pressure from cultural forces hostile to argumentative rigor. The pain has several named sources. Continental philosophy as practiced by careless readers of Heidegger, Derrida, Foucault, and Lacan. Religious philosophy as practiced by figures who treat revelation as a source of philosophical authority. Pop philosophy that exchanges argument for branding. Identity-based scholarship that substitutes biographical authority for analysis. The professional philosophical community itself when it tolerates these moves to keep peace.
The pain is not vague. Leiter names it with care. Naturalizing Jurisprudence (2007) names the pain of legal theory’s drift away from empirical inquiry into adjudication. Nietzsche on Morality (2002, second edition 2015) names the pain of decades of literary Nietzsche scholarship that read him as a postmodern aestheticist. Why Tolerate Religion? (2012) names the pain of religious belief receiving epistemic deference it has not earned. Each book performs the same operation. It identifies a category that has accumulated symbolic prestige without the supporting argument, and it forces the category to face the test analytic philosophy applies to its own claims.
The discursive skills Alexander says carrier groups bring to trauma construction map onto Leiter with precision. He writes prose that argues. He uses no jargon he cannot defend. He cites primary sources. He concedes points his opponents have made. He rebuilds positions stronger than their proponents stated them before knocking them down. The skills are real and they are the conditions of his standing as a carrier-group entrepreneur. A philosopher who could not do this work could not occupy the priestly office. Leiter can, and the office runs on the fact.
The victim in Leiter’s trauma construction is layered. At the surface the victim is the discipline of philosophy, harmed by frauds who take up space that should belong to serious thinkers. Beneath that the victim is the graduate student, the prospective hire, the young scholar, who depends on the discipline being honest about who can teach him to think. Beneath that the victim is reason itself, the human capacity for following arguments where they lead, threatened by every move that substitutes authority, charisma, or moral posturing for evidence.
The escalation matters. Alexander notes that successful trauma claims widen the victim category to include audiences who would not otherwise feel implicated. Leiter does this work. A reader who has no career stake in academic philosophy can still feel implicated by the suggestion that public discourse depends on philosophical standards holding somewhere, and that if they collapse in the academy they collapse everywhere. Why Tolerate Religion? performs the widening at the level of policy. The book argues that legal regimes give religious belief a special exemption from neutral laws that no other category of belief receives, and that the exemption rests on philosophical confusion. The victim widens from the philosopher harmed by bad colleagues to the citizen harmed by laws that privilege belief categories that cannot defend themselves on neutral grounds.
The third question asks how the victim connects to a wider audience. Leiter’s blog is the answer in operational form. Leiter Reports is read by philosophers, by graduate students, by law professors, by educated readers outside the academy who have an interest in academic culture wars, and by journalists looking for quotable academic voices on philosophical disputes. The audience composition matters. It places Leiter in a position no purely academic philosopher occupies. He is read by his own discipline, by adjacent disciplines, and by an educated public, and he speaks to all three at once.
The blog’s tonal register is calibrated for this audience. He writes with sharp clarity, no in-group jargon, frequent humor, and a willingness to name names. The register makes the trauma narrative legible to readers who would not pick up Naturalizing Jurisprudence. A reader who never reads the philosophical work still receives the trauma narrative, in compressed form, several times a week. The narrative is: standards exist, they are being violated, here is who is violating them, here is what the violation costs.
Alexander’s spiral of signification runs through specific arenas. Religious arena: Leiter reaches readers who care about secularism and the place of religion in public life. Aesthetic arena: he reaches readers interested in the sociology of taste and prestige in the humanities. Legal arena: his jurisprudential work reaches law professors, judges, and law students. Scientific arena: his naturalism aligns him with a wider movement in philosophy that takes empirical findings as constraints on philosophical theory. Mass-media arena: his blog and his occasional public-facing pieces reach beyond the academy. Each arena receives a version of the trauma narrative tuned to the arena’s idiom. The carrier group of one reaches what no one carrier group could reach if the carrier worked in only one register.
The fourth question is where Leiter’s work shows its sharpest edge and its most contested moves. Alexander says responsibility attribution must be specific enough to be credible and sweeping enough to feel total. Leiter does both at once.
He names individuals. He names departments. He names institutions. He names tendencies. The named individuals form a roster maintained over years on the blog. The named departments are the ones whose ranking he believes overstates their actual contribution to the discipline. The named institutions include religious universities he holds to a different evidentiary standard than secular ones. The named tendencies include identity-based scholarship he reads as substituting moral authority for argument.
A reader who disagrees with Leiter about a particular case can still feel the structure of the claim because the claim is not vague. It is not a complaint about the academy in general. It is a complaint about specifically this person doing specifically this thing in specifically this venue. That structure is what Alexander predicts will produce durable trauma claims. Vagueness fails. Naming works.
Carrier groups that attribute responsibility specifically generate enemies who attribute responsibility back to them. The 2014 controversy over the Philosophical Gourmet Report is the case study. After Leiter sent emails to Carrie Jenkins (b. 1979), then a philosopher at the University of British Columbia, that she and many others read as harassment, the September Statement gathered signatures from senior philosophers asking him to step back from the PGR. The statement did not argue the merits of the rankings. It argued that Leiter had become a polluting figure whose continued control of the rankings would contaminate them.
The carrier-group entrepreneur of analytic philosophy’s trauma narrative became the target of a counter-trauma narrative built on his own categories. The pain was harassment. The victim was a named philosopher who carried the wider category of women in philosophy. The connection to wider audience ran through the visible pattern of Leiter’s blog conduct over years. The responsibility was attributed specifically to him. The rituals of removal followed: the open letter, the public statements, the negotiated handoff of the PGR to a co-editor structure, the eventual shift of the rankings infrastructure away from him as sole author.
The September Statement is Leiter’s Saturday Night Massacre in the Alexander frame. It is the moment where the pollution he had spent decades projecting outward attached to him at the structural center of his own ritual office. The PGR survived but it never recovered the singular authority it had possessed when Leiter alone curated it. The blog continues but its standing as the priestly office of the discipline is contested in a way it was not before 2014.
Leiter is the most prominent contemporary defender of philosophical naturalism in the broad Quinean sense, the view that philosophy answers to facts about persons and institutions and that there is no special philosophical method standing apart from empirical inquiry. The civil-religious office he occupies sits in tension with this naturalism. Civil religion treats some categories as sacred and some as profane. Naturalism treats both as objects of empirical inquiry on the same terms. The blog’s pollution marks are not naturalist findings. They are sacred boundary markers.
Leiter is sophisticated enough to feel this tension. Nietzsche on Morality contains the resources to diagnose his own practice. Nietzsche’s critique of Morality in the Pejorative Sense applies to any practice that presents contingent coalition values as universally binding sacred truths. The Leiter Reports vocabulary of charlatan, fraud, and crank is exactly the vocabulary Nietzsche would have analyzed as a status game projected as a metaphysical judgment. The carrier group of one for analytic naturalism is also the most reliable practitioner of moralized boundary-marking in the contemporary academy. The two roles do not contradict but they sit together uncomfortably, and the uncomfortable seam is where Alexander’s frame sees deepest into the work.
The intellectual has to perform the priestly office to maintain the trauma narrative. The priestly office requires sacred-profane boundary work. The naturalist commitments inside the trauma narrative undermine the boundary work the office requires. The strain is the cost of the role, and the most effective carrier groups are the ones whose intellectuals are willing to pay it.
Leiter pays it.

The Set

His circle includes several layers. In legal philosophy: Scott Shapiro (b. 1966) at Yale, Frederick Schauer (b. 1946) at Virginia, Andrei Marmor (b. 1959) at Cornell, Leslie Green (b. 1956) at Oxford, Mark Greenberg at UCLA, Liam Murphy (b. 1960) at NYU, Stephen Perry (b. 1948) at Penn, Jules Coleman (b. 1947) emeritus at Yale, Will Baude (b. 1981) at Chicago, and Sandy Levinson (b. 1941) at Texas. Behind them stand Joseph Raz (1939-2022) as elder, John Gardner (1965-2019) as the close friend whose early death was a major loss, with Ronald Dworkin (1931-2013) and H.L.A. Hart (1907-1992) as the framing figures of the field. Chicago Law colleagues: Geoffrey Stone (b. 1946), David Strauss (b. 1951), Eric Posner (b. 1965), Aziz Huq, Adam Chilton, Tom Ginsburg, Lior Strahilevitz, with Richard Posner (b. 1939) as the retired-but-present presence and Martha Nussbaum (b. 1947) at the law school as senior figure. Chicago philosophy: Robert Pippin (b. 1948), Anton Ford, Michael Forster, and Daniel Brudney. Cass Sunstein (b. 1954) at Harvard sits in adjacent orbit.

In Nietzsche studies the set is small and known to each other: Maudemarie Clark (b. 1947), Ken Gemes, Christopher Janaway, Bernard Reginster (b. 1962), John Richardson, and R. Lanier Anderson at Stanford, with Alexander Nehamas (b. 1946) as senior figure and Robert Pippin as Chicago colleague who works on Nietzsche from a different angle. In Marx studies and the analytic Marxist tradition: G.A. Cohen (1941-2009) as the founding figure, Allen Wood (b. 1942), Raymond Geuss (b. 1946), and Jonathan Wolff, with Vivek Chibber (b. 1965) at NYU as the generationally younger figure Leiter has engaged. Schopenhauer scholarship: Christopher Janaway, David Cartwright, Julian Young (b. 1949), and Bernard Reginster again.

Analytic philosophy more broadly. Leiter cites and engages: Peter Railton at Michigan on moral naturalism, Elizabeth Anderson at Michigan, Stephen Darwall (b. 1946) at Yale on ethics, Daniel Dennett (1942-2024) as model naturalist, Philip Kitcher (b. 1947) at Columbia, Susan Haack (b. 1945) at Miami, Bernard Williams (1929-2003) as the philosopher whose moral psychology and historical sensibility Leiter most respects, Thomas Nagel (b. 1937), Frank Jackson (b. 1943), David Chalmers (b. 1966), Tim Williamson (b. 1955), Saul Kripke (1940-2022) and Hilary Putnam (1926-2016) as ancestors, John Searle (b. 1932), Jerry Fodor (1935-2017) before his death, and Kwame Anthony Appiah (b. 1954) at NYU in a more complicated relationship. In philosophy of religion done atheistically: Graham Oppy (b. 1960), Paul Draper, and J.L. Schellenberg. Alvin Plantinga (b. 1932), Richard Swinburne (b. 1934), Edward Feser (b. 1968), and the broader Catholic and Reformed analytic philosophy of religion stand as polemical opponents whom Leiter has called out by name. The New Atheist authors: Richard Dawkins (b. 1941), Christopher Hitchens (1949-2011), Sam Harris, A.C. Grayling (b. 1949), and Dennett again. Massimo Pigliucci (b. 1964) sits adjacent.

In academic-freedom and free-speech advocacy: Geoffrey Stone, Keith Whittington (b. 1968), Robert Post (b. 1947), Steven Pinker, with FIRE as institutional ally. Leiter has engaged Jason Stanley (b. 1969) and Kate Manne (b. 1983) as antagonists within the philosophy profession on questions of identity, propaganda, and trans rights. He has supported philosophers including Rebecca Tuvel, Kathleen Stock (b. 1972), and others who have faced professional pressure for heterodox views.

In the philosophy blogosphere and adjacent commentary: Justin Weinberg at Daily Nous as sometime competitor, Eric Schwitzgebel at The Splintered Mind, Daniel Kaufman at The Electric Agora, John Pittard, Helen De Cruz, and Kelly Truelove running PhilPapers analytics. The ancestral figures Leiter draws on: Karl Marx (1818-1883), Friedrich Nietzsche (1844-1900), Sigmund Freud (1856-1939), Arthur Schopenhauer (1788-1860), David Hume (1711-1776), W.V.O. Quine (1908-2000), Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr. (1841-1935), Louis Brandeis (1856-1941), and Richard Rorty (1931-2007) as graduate-school influence even where Leiter dissents.

What they value.

Truth as the proper aim of philosophical inquiry. The set rejects the idea that philosophy is at root about edification, self-cultivation, or rhetorical performance. Philosophy aims at getting things right. This sounds banal until one sees how much of contemporary academic discourse the set takes to have abandoned the goal.

Naturalism as methodological commitment. Philosophy should be continuous with the empirical sciences. Mind is brain. Free will compatibilist or eliminativist depending on the figure. No supernatural realm. No Cartesian soul. No moral facts floating free of psychology and biology. The set holds that naturalism has won most of the methodological war within analytic philosophy and remains the right basis for further work.

Analytic rigor. Clarity of argument. Distinctions made and held. Premises stated, conclusions derived. The set sees this as the discipline’s hard-won achievement after the early-twentieth-century turn from Hegelian and idealist obscurity.

Academic freedom as foundational to the university. The Chicago Statement on Free Expression of 2014, chaired by Geoffrey Stone, is the set’s institutional standard. The set takes current pressures from administrators, students, and politically organized colleagues as the central threat to the university’s function.

A pessimism about human nature and politics. The set reads Nietzsche, Marx, Freud, and Schopenhauer as having seen something true about the human animal that Enlightenment optimism missed. People are not rational. Democratic politics rewards demagogues. Religion does not retreat. It reformulates. Capitalism produces ideology that obscures domination. None of this counsels despair. It counsels honest description.

Critique of religion as intellectual rather than emotional position. Why Tolerate Religion? (2013) argues that religious belief deserves no special legal accommodation beyond what conscience generally would receive. The set takes religion as a natural human phenomenon to be understood through evolutionary, psychological, and sociological inquiry, not as a domain of revealed truth.

Disciplinary standards. The set holds that some work is better than other work, some philosophers better than others, some departments better than others, and that pretending otherwise serves the worse. The Philosophical Gourmet Report institutionalized this view, and the controversies around it have not changed Leiter’s position on the underlying point.

Their hero system.

The four masters of suspicion. Nietzsche above all. Marx as critic of capitalism and ideology. Freud as theorist of unconscious motivation. Schopenhauer as the great pessimist whose moral psychology Leiter takes as deeper than Kant’s. The set works on these figures with analytic tools against the Continental tradition’s tendency to treat them as authorities to be channeled rather than philosophers to be examined.

Hume as the modern ancestor. Skeptical, naturalist, attentive to psychology, allergic to metaphysical excess. The set reads its own work as continuing Hume’s project.

Quine as the analytic anchor. “Two Dogmas of Empiricism” (1951) and Word and Object (1960) provide the framework for the set’s naturalist program. The collapse of the analytic-synthetic distinction and the holistic theory of confirmation, the set takes as settled.

H.L.A. Hart as the founder of modern legal philosophy. The Concept of Law (1961) is the canonical text. The set works within and against Hart’s framework, defends his positivism against Dworkin’s interpretivism, and treats Hart’s clarity as the model for the field.

Joseph Raz as the great teacher and elder. His work on practical reason, authority, and the nature of law is canonical for the set. His death in 2022 was a major event. The festschrifts circulate.

Bernard Williams as the philosopher of the second-best. His work on integrity, on the limits of moral theory, on truth and truthfulness, on the historical understanding of philosophical problems, the set honors across its breadth despite his not being naturalist enough for some. Truth and Truthfulness: An Essay in Genealogy (2002) functions as touchstone.

Daniel Dennett as model living philosopher until his death in 2024. Naturalist, clear, willing to engage with science, willing to take strong positions, willing to be a public intellectual. Leiter eulogized him.

The free-speech tradition in American law. Justice Holmes’s dissent in Abrams v. United States. Brandeis’s concurrence in Whitney v. California. The post-1960s First Amendment doctrine. Geoffrey Stone’s scholarship. The set takes this tradition as a hard-won achievement against authority of all kinds.

Status games.

The PGR ranking of your department. Top tier (NYU, Rutgers, Princeton, Harvard, MIT, Michigan, Yale, Pittsburgh, Stanford, Oxford). Second tier. The long tail. The set knows where everyone sits. Job candidates know. Search committees know. Leiter’s blog publishes news that affects rankings, and the rankings affect hiring, and hiring affects the field. The system has critics but the underlying ordering persists.

Publications in top journals. Philosophical Review. Noûs. Journal of Philosophy. Mind. Ethics. For legal philosophy: Legal Theory, Oxford Journal of Legal Studies, and Law and Philosophy. For Nietzsche: Journal of Nietzsche Studies and Inquiry. The set tracks who publishes where.

Books at Oxford University Press, Cambridge University Press, Harvard University Press, and Princeton University Press. Routledge for certain books. The set notices which press picked up the manuscript.

Named chairs. Leiter’s Karl N. Llewellyn chair carries weight. The various Oxford named chairs. The Princeton McCosh Professorship. The Hart chair when it has been held. The set recognizes the chairs as markers of position.

Invited lectures. The John Locke Lectures at Oxford. The Carus Lectures at the American Philosophical Association. The Tanner Lectures. The Berkeley Townsend Lectures. The Chicago Brown Lectures.

Editorship roles. The Oxford Studies series. Cambridge Companions and Cambridge Critical Guides. Major handbooks. Leiter edited The Oxford Handbook of Continental Philosophy (2007), founded the Routledge Philosophers series, and edits Oxford Studies in Philosophy of Law. He edited the journal Legal Theory from 2000 to 2008. Editorial position confers and signals position.

The blog. Leiter Reports has been an unusual source of status for two decades. Being mentioned, being linked, being defended, being attacked. The blog’s announcements of job moves, deaths, and departmental crises function as the trade press of the field. Justin Weinberg’s Daily Nous now competes, but Leiter Reports keeps particular weight in legal philosophy and among older readers.

Disciplinary feuds and their outcome. Leiter has feuded over decades: with Carlin Romano over a hostile review of Leiter’s anthology on Continental philosophy in 2008; with Edward Feser and various Catholic philosophers over religion; with Carrie Jenkins in the controversy that led to his stepping down from the PGR in 2014; with various Twitter-era interlocutors; with Christia Mercer over the September Statement. Surviving these feuds and continuing to publish at high level confers a status the set understands.

Distance from certain currents. Postmodernism. Hermeneutic Continental philosophy of the heavier sort. Standpoint epistemology as deployed in much current discourse. The wing of trans-rights philosophy that takes the metaphysical questions as settled by political commitment. The set scores members on how clear they have made their distance from these currents while remaining within the liberal-left political space the set inhabits.

Normative claims.

Philosophy should aim at truth, and the institutions of academic philosophy exist to support that aim. Departments, journals, conferences, and rankings serve truth-seeking when they work and undermine it when they fail. Reform should preserve the function.

Naturalism is the correct methodological commitment for philosophy. The supernatural is not a serious explanatory option for any phenomenon. Theistic philosophy is not philosophy of the same kind as the rest of analytic work, in the set’s view, even when conducted with analytic tools.

Religion deserves no special legal accommodation. Conscience deserves protection. Religion is a species of conscience. The legal regime that privileges religious belief over other deeply held convictions has no defense.

Academic freedom requires tolerance of unpopular views, including views the holder’s colleagues find offensive. The university serves no function if it enforces the orthodoxy of the moment.

Marx is correct in the main about capitalism. Class relations are real, ideology obscures them, the workers do not own what they produce. The set divides on what follows politically, with some closer to social-democratic positions and some more revolutionary in their reading, but the diagnostic frame is shared.

Nietzsche is correct in the main about morality. The Christian moral inheritance rests on a particular psychology no longer credible. The values it elevates are not the values a free spirit would choose. The set takes the slave-morality critique as sound at its core, though the set debates how to interpret it and what to do with it politically.

Hard truths are preferable to comforting illusions. This is the closing claim Leiter often makes. The set takes intellectual courage as a virtue and treats those who soften their conclusions for political or social comfort as falling short.

Essentialist claims.

Truth is a real property and propositions either have it or do not. The pragmatist and post-truth alternatives fail. Philosophy can make progress because some claims are correct and others mistaken.

Naturalism is true. The world consists of natural processes describable in scientific terms. There is no separate realm of mind, value, or divinity that escapes natural description.

Human psychology has identifiable features that cross cultures and history. Drives, motivations, self-deception, the will to power in some Nietzschean sense, the unconscious in some Freudian sense. The set takes this as the foundation for a realistic moral and political theory.

Class relations have an objective character. The Marxist analytical apparatus, freed from its more questionable empirical predictions, captures real features of capitalist societies. The set takes the diagnosis as more secure than any particular prescription drawn from it.

Religion is a natural phenomenon. Anthropology, psychology, evolutionary biology, and sociology explain it without remainder. The set accounts for its persistence without reference to supernatural reality.

Some philosophical work is better than other philosophical work. This is the controversial claim the PGR institutionalized and that critics have attacked as elitist or biased. The set holds that quality is real in philosophy as in mathematics or physics, even where the markers are harder to identify, and that pretending otherwise serves the worse work.

Free expression serves truth-discovery as a matter of how minds work. Mill’s argument in On Liberty (1859) is sound. The remedy for bad speech is more speech, not suppression, because suppression cuts off the procedure by which truth gets identified.

An essentialism about sex and gender. Some members of the set, including Leiter, have argued that sex is a biological category and that certain claims about gender identity require philosophical examination rather than acceptance on authority. The set divides on how to phrase the point in public and on which philosophers to defend when they make it. The internal disagreement runs along a recognizable line.

A counter-essentialism about the contemporary humanities. The set holds that much of what passes for humanistic scholarship outside philosophy and a few related fields has lost contact with the standards that distinguish good work from bad. Literature departments, certain area-studies departments, and gender studies in particular get singled out as having abandoned disciplinary self-discipline. The set holds this claim with confidence it takes as well-supported and that critics outside the set take as unsupported and self-serving.

The members of the set know they belong to it. They publish in each each other’s journals. They serve on each other’s tenure committees. They write each other’s letters of recommendation. They attend each other’s conferences. They eulogize each other when the deaths come. They defend each other when the attacks come. They believe philosophy is the most important academic discipline. They believe analytic philosophy did serious work in the twentieth century. They believe their methodological commitments are correct and that current pressures on the academy threaten the conditions for that work to continue. They take their work as part of a project worth defending, and they expect the long view of history to favor the methods they have practiced over the alternatives competing for ground today.

Posted in Law, Philosophy | Comments Off on Brian Leiter: The Naturalist’s Program

The Problem of the Problem: Lawrence McEnerney and the Hidden Curriculum of Expert Writing

Lawrence McEnerney spent four decades teaching writing at the University of Chicago. That description undersells him. What he built, and what he taught, was a theory of how knowledge communities work.
He came to Chicago in 1978 as a PhD student in English, with a B.A. from William & Mary in English and History. He expected to become a literary scholar. He discovered he had no taste for it. He later put the diagnosis bluntly: he was bad at scholarship because he did not like literature.
Joseph Williams rescued him. Williams, already a figure in composition studies, read McEnerney’s prelim and found the writing disappointing. He brought McEnerney into the small group rethinking how writing should be taught. In 1978 and 1979, along with Gregory Colomb, Williams hired twelve graduate students to teach a new kind of seminar. That seminar became the Little Red Schoolhouse.
The Little Red Schoolhouse targets advanced writers. Faculty, graduate students, working professionals. Not freshmen. The distinction matters. The American writing tradition McEnerney entered treated writing as remediation. The Strunk and White line held that good writing means clear sentences, short paragraphs, cut adverbs, avoid passive voice. Those rules work on novices. They do little for people who already produce clean sentences and still cannot get read.
McEnerney’s first move cut against the tradition. He stopped treating the sentence as the unit of analysis. He replaced it with the community of readers.
A piece of writing does not succeed or fail on its own terms. It succeeds when a specific audience finds value in it. That audience already knows a great deal. It holds commitments. It has blind spots. A writer who ignores any of this produces work that reads fine on the page and falls flat in the room.
From this starting point came his signature idea: the problem of the problem.
Answers, he teaches, are cheap. Any trained researcher can produce them. What runs scarce is the recognized problem. A problem counts as a problem only when a community of readers agrees that something puzzles them, that a gap exists, and that the gap bears on their ongoing work. That agreement does not form by itself. A writer has to construct it.
His method reverses the usual order. Most writers start with what they want to say. McEnerney teaches them to start with what the reader already believes, then locate the point where those beliefs strain. That strain is the opening. The paper then offers a resolution.
Get that step wrong and nothing else rescues the piece. You can have elegant prose, sound data, a sharp argument. If the reader does not see a problem worth solving, the reader stops reading.
This explains why so much academic writing dies on submission. Graduate students learn to produce answers long before they learn to produce questions that a field recognizes. Their papers hold together internally and fail externally. McEnerney’s training reorders the priority. First establish the problem in the reader’s mind. Only then offer the solution.
The Little Red Schoolhouse runs as ENGL 13000/33000. It serves more than 2,000 Chicago affiliates a year. It supports the Humanities Core, trains graduate student instructors, and provides advanced writing support across disciplines. It sits inside the Writing Program, which McEnerney led from 1992 until his retirement in 2020.
He joined the Writing Program formally in 1987, after a brief detour into his family’s electronics business, Pioneer Electric and Research Corporation, which his father ran. He took over as director in 1992 and stayed for almost thirty years. The program grew through that period from a small operation into a central piece of the Chicago undergraduate experience.
His wife Cathe served with him as resident dean of Renee Granville-Grossman Residential Commons East from 2009 through 2020. She is a textile artist, a stitcher, a former president of the American Needlepoint Guild. They ran weekly teas and the annual deans’ scavenger hunt. He taught in the Humanities and Social Sciences Core. In the 2010s he added courses on presidential rhetoric.
The presidential rhetoric interest shows what McEnerney hears in speech. He reads Lincoln and Reagan and Obama as performers of his core lesson, scaled up to the level of a nation. Lincoln at Gettysburg redefines the war. The audience arrives thinking the question is whether the Union can hold together. Lincoln hands them a different question: whether a nation conceived in liberty can endure. That substitution reorganizes the stakes. It reorders what the listener will accept.
The Second Inaugural does similar work. Reagan performs the same move in the economic register, reframing stagnation as a crisis of government overreach. Obama performs it in the register of shared identity, reframing division as a failure to realize common ideals. In each case the rhetorical move precedes the policy move. Define the problem and the rest follows.
His 2014 lecture, “The Craft of Writing Effectively,” has millions of views. It spread because it names something knowledge workers feel but cannot express. They follow the rules. They write clean sentences. Their work still falls flat. McEnerney tells them why. The writing does not fail for lack of clarity. It fails because it solves the wrong problem for the wrong reader.
The message lands hard on smart people. Most of them received rewards through their schooling for producing correct work. They assume correctness produces value. He tells them correctness is the entry ticket, not the prize. Past the ticket, the work goes social. You have to know what your reader already takes for granted and where their assumptions go soft.
His consulting career grows from the same insight. Grant reviewers are experts drowning in proposals. They cannot read everything with care. They triage. A proposal that fails to frame a problem the reviewer already recognizes as urgent and tractable gets cut in the first pass. McEnerney works with funding agencies, research institutes, journals, and individual scientists to teach them how not to get cut. The method travels because the situation repeats wherever expert readers select under time pressure.
He co-authored books with Williams, Writing in the Humanities in 1997 and Writing in College in 2007. He published The Problem of the Problem in 2013 and Hard Copy in 1994. He received the Llewellyn John and Harriet Manchester Quantrell Award for Excellence in Undergraduate Teaching in 1997. He retired in 2020 as director emeritus and continues to consult and lecture.
His framework has limits worth naming.
The first limit sits inside the method. A writer who over-indexes on audience expectations risks producing only work that fits the paradigms already in place. Unsettling ideas often fail because no existing community recognizes them as answers to any current question. Copernicus and Darwin did not start inside a recognized problem space. They created one. A strict reader-first discipline can crowd out the kind of work that reshapes a field rather than extending it.
The second limit sits on the ethical side. A method optimized for effect with a given audience can serve truth or serve deception with equal efficiency. McEnerney teaches how to move a reader. He does not tell you where to move the reader. A polished grant application and a polished propaganda pamphlet can follow the same logic. The method rules out neither. That neutrality is a feature for a teacher. It becomes a problem once you step outside the classroom and ask what the trained writers produce.
The third limit has to do with who gets to learn this. The Little Red Schoolhouse runs at the University of Chicago. Its graduates fan out into the professions and the academy carrying tacit codes most outsiders never encounter. The program does not create the gap between trained insiders and untrained outsiders. It widens it. Someone who has taken the course reads a research paper, a policy memo, or a grant application and sees the architecture beneath the prose. Someone who has not looks at the same page and sees only the words. That difference tracks access to elite institutions more than it tracks any native gift.
McEnerney’s work reads as prose instruction on the surface. Underneath he teaches a theory of how knowledge moves through communities of experts. Writing, in his account, is a social act. It lives inside networks of belief, expectation, and selection. The writer who ignores those networks writes into the void. The writer who reads them can produce change. He spent forty years teaching people to see those networks and move through them. His students, his readers, and his viewers continue the work.

Alliance Theory

Larry McEnerney’s core insight, that writing succeeds when an audience recognizes the problem as worth solving, describes the mechanism Pinsof identifies without using Pinsof’s vocabulary. McEnerney teaches coalition-aware writing without calling it coalition-aware writing. His description of how writing works is compatible with the Alliance Theory description of how coalitions work, because expert communities that select submissions are coalitions in Pinsof’s sense. The match between the two frameworks makes McEnerney both interesting to analyze and analytically useful as an entry point into the larger project of understanding who decides what counts as knowledge.

The coalition McEnerney serves is not the coalition most readers of his YouTube lecture would identify. He appears to serve writers in general. He appears to offer practical advice that travels across fields. The appearance is partly accurate. His advice does travel. But the coalition his work most directly served for forty years was the University of Chicago’s institutional project. Chicago is a particular kind of American university with a particular kind of institutional self-understanding. It prides itself on rigorous argumentation, open debate, contrarian positions taken seriously, a distinctive intellectual style. The Little Red Schoolhouse was built inside this institutional culture and was designed to produce graduates who could succeed in the expert communities the university’s graduates tend to enter: the American academic profession across disciplines, senior policy and analytic positions in government, the upper tiers of consulting and finance, and the broader class of knowledge workers who operate in environments where expert reader selection determines professional success.
The coalition Chicago’s graduates enter is not monolithic. It is a cluster of expert coalitions that share features: reliance on credentialed evaluation, selection by peer review or its functional equivalents, operation under time pressure that forces quick judgments about what merits attention, and distribution of authority through invitation, citation, and amplification rather than through formal voting. These coalitions exist in academic fields, in think tanks, in foundations, in journalism, in consulting, and in corners of finance and tech where analytic writing matters. McEnerney’s method teaches writers how to succeed inside these coalitions. The method is neutral between coalitions in the sense that it can be applied to any coalition’s expectations. It is not neutral between the world of expert coalitions and the world outside them. It is tuned to help writers operate inside the former.
Pinsof’s four criteria describe McEnerney’s own position and the broader formation he served.
Similarity operates through markers of the expert-community style he teaches and inhabits. Fluency in the forms that mark academic and professional writing as serious. Comfort with indirect argumentative moves. Familiarity with the social pressures that shape how experts read. Command of the vocabulary that signals membership in the writing-instruction subfield: composition studies, rhetorical situation, discourse community, genre. McEnerney displays these markers. His colleagues in the Writing Program displayed them. His students learn to display them. The display is what coalition recognition requires.
Transitivity clusters him with allies. Joseph Williams, his mentor and co-author, whose work on clarity and style became standard across the field. Gregory Colomb, the other senior figure in the Chicago writing program who co-built the Little Red Schoolhouse. The broader composition studies community that sustains journals, conferences, and graduate programs in the discipline. The consulting network he developed through his work with funding agencies and research institutes. The cluster has rivals: the Strunk and White tradition that McEnerney positioned against, the broader remediation-oriented writing instruction that treats writing as grammar and sentence mechanics, the creative writing world that operates on different premises, and the literary studies establishment McEnerney walked away from when he realized he did not like literature.
Interdependence ran through the Chicago institutional structure during his career. He directed the Writing Program. The program served the university’s broader institutional needs. The university supported the program because it produced graduates the university wanted to produce. He received in return the directorship, the resident dean appointment shared with his wife, the Quantrell Award, the platform his university affiliation provided, and the career Chicago permits a non-tenure-track figure who serves central institutional functions. The interdependence was not the standard tenure-line reciprocity. It was a different form Chicago has specialized in: the senior non-tenure-track figure who becomes institutionally central despite operating outside the normal academic career path. McEnerney’s career took this shape because Chicago had this slot. Had he tried to build a similar career at most other elite universities, the slot might not have existed.
Stochasticity applies in particular ways. Williams’s decision to hire twelve graduate students into the new seminar in 1978 was a contingent choice that could have gone differently. McEnerney’s inclusion among the twelve reflected Williams’s judgment. His subsequent career depended on the Little Red Schoolhouse surviving and thriving, which depended on institutional support that could have been withdrawn. His framework became his own through the teaching and collaboration his position permitted. A different institutional history might have produced a different framework or no framework at all.
The three propagandistic biases run through McEnerney’s work in identifiable ways, though the operation is subtler than in writers doing more obviously coalition-serving work.
Perpetrator biases protect the tradition of expert-community writing instruction the Chicago program built. When the framework faces critics from rival traditions (more radical composition theorists, linguists who emphasize descriptive grammar, critical theorists who focus on writing’s ideological functions), McEnerney’s treatment frames the critics as missing what the method does. When the framework faces empirical questions about whether its claims about reader selection accurately describe how expert readers read, those questions receive less engagement than they might in a research program committed to empirical testing. The framework operates as teaching tradition rather than as falsifiable theory. The operating choice is defensible pedagogically. It also protects the framework from the kinds of empirical challenges that might revise it substantively.
The bias also protects McEnerney from self-audit on the limits of his approach. The three limits he acknowledges (that the method favors paradigm-fitting over paradigm-breaking work, that it is ethically neutral between truth and deception, that it widens the gap between trained insiders and untrained outsiders) are real limits he names explicitly. The self-audit is more honest than most coalition figures perform. What the self-audit does not fully address is how his method’s institutional success has shaped what counts as good expert writing across the professions his graduates entered. The method has become partly constitutive of the writing expert communities now expect. This is not a defect on McEnerney’s part. It reflects the success of the coalition his work served. But the success is a coalition outcome that his self-audit does not fully engage.
Victim biases operate in a mild register. The writing-instruction field generally narrates itself as marginalized within English departments that favor literary scholarship over composition, underfunded relative to its importance, and undervalued by colleagues who view the field as service work. McEnerney’s own career trajectory included his move away from literary scholarship when he recognized he did not love literature, which parallels the field’s broader positioning as the serious alternative to literary studies. The narrative points at real phenomena. Composition is often marginalized within English departments. Writing instruction is often underfunded. The field’s self-description exceeds the evidence in ways that serve mobilization of support, which is what Pinsof predicts victim narratives to do. The mildness of the deployment in McEnerney’s case reflects the comfortable position the Chicago program achieved, which made strong victim narratives unnecessary.
Attributional biases govern how the framework treats successful and unsuccessful writing. Writing that succeeds with expert readers gets internal attributions when it follows McEnerney’s principles: the writer understood the rhetorical situation, the writer built the problem properly, the writer respected the reader’s beliefs and commitments. Writing that fails gets external attributions when it violates the principles: the writer did not understand the expert community, the writer assumed correctness sufficed, the writer solved the wrong problem. The attribution pattern serves the framework by making its predictions appear verified whenever they hold and by externalizing counter-cases to the writer’s failure to apply the method correctly. The asymmetry is not deliberate deception. It is standard pedagogical framing. It also produces a method that cannot easily be falsified by its own failures, which is a coalition-rational property for a teaching tradition.
The strange bedfellows inside the coalition McEnerney’s method serves deserve attention. The method equally serves grant writers producing coalition-useful scientific proposals, policy analysts producing coalition-useful briefs, academics producing coalition-useful journal submissions, consultants producing coalition-useful reports, and categories of propagandist producing coalition-useful persuasive material. McEnerney acknowledges this neutrality explicitly. The acknowledgment is honest. It also understates the composition of the actual coalition the method has built. The trained writers using his method populate institutional ecosystems: academic coalitions that compete for grants, foundation coalitions that compete for attention, policy coalitions that compete for influence, and corporate and political formations that compete for resources. The trained writers serve these coalitions. Their training makes them more effective coalition members. The method’s success at producing effective coalition members is a feature the method’s originators did not fully reckon with, because reckoning with it might require treating the method as partly a coalition-reproduction engine rather than purely a skill-transmission engine.
His legacy depends on the method’s continued respect inside the communities that teach and use it. His consulting income depends on continued demand for his framework. His speaking invitations depend on the framework’s continued authority. These are lower-stakes than a tenure line or an institutional directorship, but they are not zero. A McEnerney who publicly revised the framework substantially, or who acknowledged that the method has institutional effects the self-audit does not fully engage, might damage the legacy position that makes his retirement meaningful. He has not made such acknowledgments. The absence is coalition-rational in the mild register appropriate to his current position.
The truths McEnerney cannot say, which the framework makes available, include several worth naming. He does not say that the method’s ethical neutrality is not just a feature but a problem for a society in which expert coalitions shape outcomes that affect people who will never learn the method. He does not say that the method’s success has helped build the professional-managerial class whose operation generates many of the pathologies the class’s graduates then purport to analyze. He does not say that the method’s widening of the insider-outsider gap has contributed to the populist backlashes against expert institutions that have characterized the last decade of American political life. He does not say that his framework might be partly responsible for the style of expert writing that has made expert writing increasingly untrustworthy to readers outside expert communities, because the framework optimizes for effectiveness within expert communities regardless of how the writing appears from outside. These are the costly truths the framework permits but the coalition position discourages. Writers do not tell them. McEnerney does not tell them.
McEnerney built his framework during a period when expert institutions in America were still largely trusted by the broader public. The framework was developed inside this context and reflects it. The method assumes that teaching writers to succeed within expert communities is unambiguously good for writers and largely good for society. The assumption made sense in 1978. It makes less straightforward sense in 2026, after several decades in which expert institutions have lost substantial public trust, in significant part because the writing those institutions produce has seemed to broader publics to obscure rather than clarify, to protect institutional interests rather than to inform citizens, and to license coalition positions as neutral expertise. The method contributed to this pattern without intending to. McEnerney’s self-audit does not address the generational shift in public trust, because the shift post-dates the framework’s formation and because addressing it might require revisions the coalition supporting the framework might resist.
The Trivers self-deception finding applies in a particular form. McEnerney probably experiences his framework as teaching writers to do good work that serves readers by respecting them. The experience is partially accurate. The framework does teach writers to respect reader time, attention, and prior beliefs. It also teaches writers to work inside expert-coalition expectations in ways that reinforce those coalitions’ authority and reproduce those coalitions’ members. Both descriptions are true simultaneously. The framework insists on holding both. McEnerney’s sincerity is the condition under which his coalition work has been most effective. A McEnerney who consciously taught coalition reproduction might have been less effective at coalition reproduction. The sincerity is the coalition asset.
The comparison with counterparts in adjacent traditions is instructive. Steven Pinker’s writing instruction work, particularly The Sense of Style, serves a different but overlapping coalition: the science-public-intellectual formation analyzed earlier in relation to Paul Bloom. Pinker’s method emphasizes clarity and reader accommodation in ways compatible with McEnerney’s but with different emphases. Strunk and White’s tradition, which McEnerney positioned against, served a different coalition: the mass-literacy, standard-English formation that dominated American writing instruction for most of the twentieth century. More radical composition theorists like Peter Elbow and Patricia Bizzell have served coalitions oriented toward voice, process, and critical engagement with institutional writing norms. Each tradition produces its senior figures whose work serves coalition positions while claiming general applicability. McEnerney’s framework is not uniquely coalition-shaped. It is shaped by its coalition in ways the framework insists on noticing.
That McEnerney’s 2014 lecture has millions of views on YouTube is a data point the framework can read. The lecture reaches beyond expert communities into the broader audience of knowledge workers, aspiring academics, writers at various career stages, and categories of people trying to understand how professional communication works. The reach reflects the lecture’s quality. It also reflects the structure of current information ecology, in which expert-community training materials can escape their original institutional contexts and circulate widely. The escape has effects McEnerney could not have predicted when he developed the framework. It democratizes access to the method somewhat, which the framework predicts might reduce the insider-outsider gap he identified as one of the method’s costs. It also exposes the method to broader criticism, which the framework predicts might generate pressures toward revision the coalition supporting the method has resisted.
The way the lecture has become a cultural artifact deserves brief attention. It has become, in internet-intellectual spaces, something like a rite of passage for people trying to understand how knowledge communities work. It is recommended by mentors, posted on professional-development blogs, cited in self-improvement contexts, and treated as revelation by audiences who feel the lecture is telling them something their formal education did not. The elevated status reflects the lecture’s quality. It also reflects a coalition need: the expanding class of aspiring knowledge workers who want to understand expert-community forces without going through the Little Red Schoolhouse directly. The lecture serves this need. Its service is coalition-rational for the populations that circulate it. The framework reads this pattern and names it.
McEnerney represents the type of senior teacher whose institutional position becomes generative of a framework that shapes a wider field. The type is not common. It requires institutional conditions that permit deep, sustained teaching to function as research, career-long mentorship to produce cumulative methodological development, and the platform that lets the accumulated insight reach beyond the originating institution. Chicago provided these conditions. McEnerney occupied the position. The framework emerged from the combination. Replicating the combination at most American universities might be difficult because the institutional slot McEnerney filled exists at few places. The framework’s cultural reach has partly substituted for the institutional replication by making the insight available without the apprenticeship.

McEnerney Under Hugo Mercier and John M. Doris

Mercier’s proportionality principle produces observations about what McEnerney’s framework gets right and where it applies.
Take McEnerney’s central observation. Writers who produce technically clean prose still fail to reach expert readers. The failure is not at the sentence level. It is at the level of connection to reader stakes. A paper that does not engage a problem the reader recognizes as her problem receives no sustained engagement, regardless of how well the sentences are constructed.
Mercier’s framework explains this precisely. Expert readers run vigilance in proportion to stakes. A reader without stakes in a problem does not deploy the operational attention that might let the paper succeed. The paper is not rejected through careful evaluation. It is filtered out at the preliminary stage where the reader decides whether substantive engagement is worth the cognitive cost. McEnerney identified this pattern and built practical training around it before Mercier formalized the underlying cognitive mechanism. The practical method works because it addresses the stakes problem that Mercier’s framework identifies as the actual problem.
McEnerney’s reader-first discipline operates through a move. Start with what the reader already believes. Locate the point where those beliefs strain. Offer a resolution at that strain. This is a precise application of what the proportionality principle might recommend. Readers have existing belief structures that produce the operational commitments their vigilance defends. Those structures contain strains where existing commitments do not fully cohere or explain phenomena the community has noticed. The strain is already producing low-level cognitive disturbance. Locating the strain gives the writer access to existing operational vigilance because the strain is already engaging the reader’s attention.
A paper that addresses a recognized strain offers to relieve a cognitive burden the reader has been carrying. Vigilance engages because the offered resolution connects to existing operational concerns. A paper that presents new information not connected to any existing strain offers to add cognitive load rather than relieve it. Vigilance does not engage because the stakes are not present. McEnerney’s method produces the connection that vigilance requires.
This is what Mercier’s framework endorses about McEnerney’s approach. The method works with the cognitive equipment readers deploy rather than against it. It is not manipulation of inattentive readers. It is successful communication with highly vigilant readers by meeting them where their vigilance is operating.
Take McEnerney’s application to grant writing. Grant reviewers operate under situational pressures. They read many proposals under time constraints. They cannot substantively engage every submission. They must triage. The triage depends on surface cues that predict which proposals might be substantively worth engaging.
Mercier’s framework specifies what this situation produces. Reviewers running operational vigilance under time constraints develop efficient filtering. The filtering uses surface features that correlate with substantive quality. A proposal that frames a recognized problem and offers a tractable resolution signals through surface features that its substance is likely to be worth engaging. A proposal that does not produce these signals gets filtered out before substantive evaluation, because the reviewer’s situation does not permit substantive engagement with every submission.
McEnerney’s training teaches writers to produce the surface cues that predict substantive quality. This is not teaching writers to deceive reviewers about weak substance. It is teaching writers with good research to produce the surface signals that reviewers have learned to use as proxies for substance. The distinction matters because critics sometimes suggest McEnerney’s method teaches rhetorical manipulation. The framework clarifies that the method teaches effective communication of quality to readers whose situations require efficient surface-level discrimination.
This applies to academic publishing, conference submissions, hiring materials, and any other context where expert readers must allocate limited substantive attention among many submissions. The proportionality principle predicts that surface cue filtering might operate in any such context, and the McEnerney method addresses the filtering reality that readers face.
Take the limitations McEnerney’s own framework acknowledges. The method works for writers whose work fits within existing paradigms. It does not work for writers whose work creates new paradigms, because new paradigms do not connect to existing stakes. Copernicus and Darwin could not use McEnerney’s method because the readers they needed to reach did not yet have the stakes structures that the method requires.
Mercier’s framework specifies why this limitation is real. Shifting readers from existing stakes to new stakes is a much harder cognitive operation than meeting readers at existing stakes. The existing stakes defend themselves through operational vigilance that resists restructuring. The new stakes have no existing defenders. The readers who might need to accept the new stakes must be persuaded to run vigilance on something they do not currently run vigilance on. The persuasion operation is not the same as the one McEnerney’s method teaches, and it requires different cognitive mechanisms that the method does not address.
This limitation is narrower than it might appear. Most academic and professional writing does not attempt paradigm creation. Most writing contributes to existing problem spaces and needs the method McEnerney teaches. The paradigm-creating cases are rare, and writers attempting them face problems the method does not address. But the vast majority of actual writing tasks are ones the method handles, and the method’s limitation on the rare cases does not reduce its value for the common cases.
Take Doris’s contribution. McEnerney’s method teaches writers to imagine their readers concretely, which includes imagining the situations in which readers might encounter the material. Doris’s framework specifies that these situations produce the reading behaviors more than stable reader characters do. A grant reviewer in review mode behaves differently than the same reviewer reading a colleague’s paper over coffee. A journal editor under deadline pressure behaves differently than the same editor at a leisurely pace. A tenure committee member reviewing a file behaves differently than the same philosopher reading the same work as an outside reader.
This is implicit in McEnerney’s method but can be made more explicit through Doris. The writer must understand which situation might produce the reading. The situation imposes constraints that override what the writer might want the reader to do. A paper that might succeed with a particular reader in a relaxed reading situation might fail with the same reader in a triage reading situation. The writer who does not specify the situation cannot design the paper for the situation, and situation-mismatched papers fail regardless of substantive quality.
McEnerney’s training generally conveys this implicitly through the instruction to imagine readers concretely. Doris’s framework makes the situational dimension explicit. Both frameworks point in the same direction, but Doris adds rigor about why imagining the situation matters.
Take the ethical question McEnerney’s method raises. A method optimized for effect can serve truth or deception with comparable efficiency. The method teaches how to move readers but does not tell writers where to move them.
Mercier’s framework addresses this concern more than surface reading suggests. Expert readers are not easy to deceive through the techniques McEnerney teaches. Their vigilance runs hard precisely because their stakes are engaged. A writer who tries to manipulate expert readers with the method faces the readers’ operational vigilance, which is calibrated to detect the manipulations the field has encountered. Expert readers have seen the rhetorical moves before and have built up defenses against the misuse of moves they recognize.
The ethical neutrality concern applies more to cases where the audience lacks the expertise to run effective vigilance. Novice readers, general public audiences on technical topics, readers encountering unfamiliar domains without guides, all face weaker defenses against manipulation by the techniques the method teaches. McEnerney’s own training has focused on expert-to-expert communication, where the ethical neutrality matters less because the vigilance discipline is present. The broader concern about the method’s ethical neutrality is a concern about its application to non-expert audiences where the vigilance discipline is absent.
Take the class-stratifying effect that critics raise. The Little Red Schoolhouse ran at the University of Chicago. Its graduates learned codes most outsiders never encounter. Readers who have taken the course see architecture beneath prose that readers without the course see only as words.
Mercier’s framework complicates the critique somewhat. The codes are not arbitrary conventions that could be distributed widely if universities chose to distribute them. The codes track features of how expert communication works in expert communities. They are difficult to acquire because they require the kind of tacit knowledge that intensive instruction can transmit but that cannot easily be reduced to rules. Teaching the codes requires institutional conditions that most universities do not provide, not because the codes are deliberately restricted but because the instruction is resource-intensive and most universities do not allocate the resources.
The class-stratifying effect is real, but its source is not Chicago’s hoarding of the codes. The source is the broader educational system’s failure to provide comparable intensive writing instruction at other institutions. Other universities could build similar programs but have generally chosen not to. The gap reflects institutional priorities and funding structures rather than restriction by Chicago. McEnerney’s work within Chicago’s situation has been exemplary. Extending similar programs elsewhere requires different institutional priorities than most universities maintain.
Take the reflexive application of Doris’s framework to McEnerney’s own career. His sustained commitment to writing instruction across four decades is not well-explained by claims about McEnerney’s scholarly character. It is better explained by the situation Chicago provided. Chicago’s institutional culture has historically rewarded sustained commitment to intellectual projects. McEnerney’s trajectory fit Chicago’s culture in ways that made his particular achievement possible. His career’s shape reflects a match between intellectual temperament and institutional situation.
A McEnerney at a different institution might have produced different work under different situational pressures. The combination of teaching, program-building, and consulting he has produced reflects what Chicago’s situation permitted and rewarded. This observation does not diminish his accomplishment. It specifies what the accomplishment required in terms of situational conditions that made the sustained commitment possible.
The broader point is that McEnerney’s model is not easily replicable because the situational features that produced it are not widely distributed. Younger writing instructors at other institutions who admire McEnerney’s work cannot simply replicate his career because their situations do not provide the same combination of opportunities and constraints. They can learn from his method and apply it in their own contexts, but the institutional achievement McEnerney built required conditions that are rare.
Take the application of Mercier’s framework to McEnerney’s 2014 lecture and its spread. The lecture has reached millions through YouTube without organized promotion. The spread operated through networks: graduate students showing it to other graduate students, junior faculty recommending it to peers, writing instructors sharing it with their programs, professional writers circulating it in their communities.
Mercier’s framework identifies what this spread pattern demonstrates. The lecture reaches audiences whose stakes are engaged by the problem it addresses. Knowledge workers who produce technically competent writing that fails to reach their intended audiences have operational stakes in improving that outcome. The lecture names a problem they have experienced without articulating and offers a framework that matches their experience. Their operational vigilance engages with the lecture because the stakes are real, and they share the lecture with others who face the same problem.
This is not viral spread driven by entertainment value or coalition signaling. It is organic diffusion through professional networks where the content addresses shared operational problems. The diffusion pattern is what Mercier’s framework predicts for genuinely useful content reaching audiences whose stakes align with the content. The spread is evidence of the lecture’s usefulness, not evidence of successful marketing.
Take what the framework can say about McEnerney’s broader contribution. He identified a gap in American writing instruction between novice-level teaching (sentence clarity) and the actual needs of expert writers (stakes connection). He built practical methods that addressed the gap. The methods work because they match how expert reception operates. They have been taught to thousands of writers through the Little Red Schoolhouse program. The trained writers carry the methods into their professional work in ways that compound over time.
The cumulative effect on intellectual communication across many fields has been substantial. Research papers, grant proposals, policy memos, and similar documents produced by writers trained in McEnerney’s method reach their intended audiences more effectively than they might have without the training. The effect is hard to measure directly because successful communication does not produce visible events in the way failed communication does, but the effect is real.
Take the comparison with previous subjects examined through this framework. McEnerney differs from the theoretical architects (Dworkin, Rawls) by not attempting comprehensive frameworks that might organize a field. He differs from the academic philosophers by working through practical instruction rather than scholarly argument. He differs from the platform-based influencers (Leiter, Weinberg) by building institutional infrastructure that trains writers rather than editorial infrastructure that coordinates coalitions. His contribution is narrower than the ambitious projects but more durable because it operates through cumulative practitioner training rather than through editorial positions.
What Mercier’s framework endorses about McEnerney. The method identifies a real feature of how expert cognition operates under stakes conditions. It addresses the feature directly rather than through generic clarity training. It produces measurable improvements in writer effectiveness by matching the method to the cognitive reality of expert reception. The framework endorses this mode of work consistently when it appears. McEnerney’s work fits the endorsement.
What the framework identifies as limits. The method addresses existing-paradigm communication better than paradigm-creating communication. The method’s ethical neutrality is a real concern for applications to non-expert audiences. The institutional infrastructure at Chicago that produced the method is not widely replicable. These limits are narrower than the contribution but they are real.
McEnerney’s career is the product of a situation that permitted his sustained commitment. The method he developed requires institutional conditions to teach well. Writers trained in the method apply it in situations whose features shape what the method can accomplish.

Buffered & Porous Selves

The core McEnerney claim is that writing is a social act that operates within communities of expert readers. The writer’s job is to change what readers believe about a topic. The method proceeds by creating instability in the reader’s existing beliefs, then developing a case that resolves the instability in a particular direction. The method requires understanding the community of readers: what they already believe, what they value, what conventions they recognize, what arguments they might find compelling, what forms of evidence they require. Writing that ignores these social dimensions fails to do the work writing can do.
This is a buffered theory of writing. It treats the writer and the readers as autonomous selves who hold beliefs that can be modified through argument. The modification proceeds through rational persuasion. The persuasion works by meeting readers where they are and offering them reasons to move. The whole theory presupposes readers whose beliefs are responsive to argument, whose cognition operates through consideration of evidence and reasoning, whose intellectual lives are organized around the exchange of considered positions supported by adequate grounds.
The reader McEnerney’s method addresses is a thoroughly buffered self. The writer’s cognition is buffered. The community of readers operates through buffered exchange. The whole theory of writing McEnerney develops is a theory of how buffered selves in buffered institutions produce change in each other’s beliefs through buffered procedures of argument and evidence.
The theory works within its domain. Academic and professional writing in contemporary elite institutions does operate through the procedures McEnerney describes. His graduates at the Little Red Schoolhouse over forty years have successfully used the method to produce work that moves through elite institutional channels. The method is empirically validated by its graduates’ placement and publication records. The validation is internal to the institutional ecology the method addresses. The method works because the institutional ecology operates through the procedures the method teaches.
Populations whose cognition does not operate through buffered procedures cannot be addressed by writing produced through the method. Porous religious believers receive texts differently than the method’s theory of reading supposes. Traditional communities that transmit knowledge through practice and ritual rather than through textual argument cannot be reached by writing organized around the method’s assumptions about reader-writer exchange. Populations whose intellectual life is structured by affective solidarity rather than by rational deliberation operate outside the method’s target.
McEnerney’s videos are consumed by audiences that go beyond University of Chicago graduate students. Writers using the method attempt to produce writing that might work beyond the institutional ecology the method was developed for. The attempts often fail. The failure is structural. The method’s assumptions about readers do not hold for populations whose cognition operates in different modes.
Writers trained in McEnerney’s method produce prose optimized for buffered elite readers. The prose succeeds with its target audience. It often alienates audiences outside the target. Readers whose intellectual lives are organized differently experience the prose as distanced, clinical, evasive, or abstract. The prose’s virtues (clarity for buffered readers, careful positioning within scholarly conversations, systematic development of argument through evidence) become distinct from its limitations (inability to engage readers whose cognitive modes differ from the buffered default).
The writers best trained in buffered prose conventions are heavily represented in prestigious institutional positions. Their prose dominates the genres that carry institutional prestige: major newspapers, prestige magazines, academic journals, policy documents, elite book publishing. Their prose reaches readers who share their buffered orientation. It fails to reach readers whose orientations differ. The latter readers increasingly operate outside the institutions that produce the prose, in alternative media ecologies organized around different cognitive conventions.
Buffered elite institutions communicate primarily among themselves through prose optimized for their own conventions. The prose does not communicate effectively outside these institutions. Populations outside these institutions develop their own communicative practices that do not operate through the same conventions. The two ecologies drift apart. The drift is not merely ideological. It is phenomenological. The different cognitive modes of the two populations cannot be bridged by simply adjusting the content of prose written for one population to make it more acceptable to the other. The prose form carries the cognitive mode it was developed for. The form cannot simply be translated to a different cognitive mode without fundamental modification.
McEnerney’s method teaches students to produce prose that identifies the beliefs of readers, introduces instability into those beliefs, and resolves the instability in a direction the writer advocates. The procedure is subtle and sophisticated. It respects the reader as an intelligent agent whose beliefs deserve engagement rather than simple assertion. It takes seriously the social dimensions of writing that academic training typically neglects. It produces prose that is recognizably professional and effective within its domain.
Different communities produce and transmit knowledge through different procedures. Porous religious communities transmit knowledge primarily through practice, ritual, and authoritative instruction. Traditional craft communities transmit knowledge primarily through apprenticeship. Folk communities transmit knowledge primarily through stories, songs, and embodied practice. McEnerney’s procedure applies to communities that transmit knowledge through published prose that can be read, engaged, and responded to through further published prose. This is the characteristic mode of elite academic and professional institutions. It is not the universal mode of knowledge transmission.
McEnerney’s method provides tools for writers seeking to enter buffered elite discourse. Writers who master the method can produce prose that meets the conventions of that discourse. The mastery is portable. It travels with the writer into writing situations. The mastery is not easily developed without instruction. Writers lacking access to such instruction typically produce prose that fails to meet the conventions, even when their substantive thinking is strong.
This makes McEnerney’s method an important transmitter of tacit institutional conventions. The conventions are not written down anywhere the writer can simply consult. They operate tacitly within institutions that reward their observance without openly articulating them as requirements. Writers outside the institutions typically do not learn the conventions. McEnerney’s method makes the conventions explicit. The explicitness enables writers outside the traditional transmission channels to learn what the conventions require.
Steve Sailer writes in buffered register but produces work that fails to meet the conventions McEnerney teaches. Sailer’s prose is observational, cross-referenced, dryly humorous, allusive to popular culture, organized by association rather than by systematic argument. It does not introduce stability into reader beliefs and resolve them in a particular direction. It accumulates observations across posts until the cumulative pattern produces its effect. The method is not what McEnerney teaches. Sailer’s audience is not the audience McEnerney’s method addresses.
Sailer reaches audiences that McEnerney’s graduates often cannot reach. His readers are not the buffered elite operating in prestige institutional contexts. They are buffered individuals operating outside those contexts, or hybrid buffered-porous readers whose intellectual needs are not met by prestige prose. Sailer has developed conventions suited to these readers through decades of direct engagement with them. The conventions differ from McEnerney’s conventions. The differences are not deficiencies. They are adaptations to different audiences with different needs.
McEnerney’s graduates can produce prose for prestige institutions but often cannot reach Sailer’s audience. Sailer reaches his audience but often cannot produce prose that meets prestige institutional conventions. The two modes of writing coexist with minimal overlap. Writers in each mode typically cannot succeed in the other mode without substantial retraining. The coexistence reflects the broader phenomenological divergence Taylor’s framework identifies.

Posted in Academia | Comments Off on The Problem of the Problem: Lawrence McEnerney and the Hidden Curriculum of Expert Writing

Who Decides What Counts As Scholarship In Law?

Legal scholarship in the United States runs on a peculiar arrangement no other academic field tolerates. Student editors at law reviews, mostly 2Ls and 3Ls at fewer than fifteen schools, pick what gets published in the venues that carry professional weight. Peer review exists at a handful of specialty journals and at university press monographs, but the prestige currency of the field flows through journals run by students whose main qualification is high grades and a writing competition.
The students select, but they select under constraints set by tenured faculty at roughly a dozen schools. Harvard, Yale, Stanford, Chicago, Columbia, NYU, Penn, Michigan, Virginia, Berkeley, Duke, and Northwestern hire almost only from each other. Entry-level tenure-track placement at these schools over the past three decades has come from Yale, Harvard, and Stanford more than 70% of the time. The faculty at these schools train the clerks, write the recommendation letters, sit on the hiring committees, run the workshops where job candidates present, and blurb each other’s books. A handful of faculty at each school set the tone of hiring discussions. Deans and appointments chairs at the top five or six schools exercise outsized influence because their hires cascade down the rankings.
Judges and justices supply a second layer of canonization. When a Supreme Court opinion cites a law review article, the article enters the permanent canon of the field. The clerks who draft opinions come from the same dozen schools and from a small group of feeder judges on the Ninth, D.C., Second, and Fourth Circuits. The feeder judges select clerks from the same narrow pipeline. A scholar who gets cited by Scalia, or by Kagan, or by Barrett, acquires a kind of authority that no amount of peer review can manufacture. Originalism’s rise from fringe position in the late 1970s to serious contender by the 2000s tracks the trajectory of a small group of men, McConnell, Calabresi, Lawson, Paulsen, Whelan, Barnett, who attached themselves to friendly judges and built a citation record inside opinions.
The Federalist Society grew because the mainstream academy remained closed to conservative legal thought into the 1990s. Meese, Calabresi, Olson, and their circle built a parallel credentialing system with its own journal ecosystem (Harvard JLPP, Engage, various symposia), its own workshop circuit, its own judicial mentors. That parallel structure later integrated with the mainstream once the judicial payoff became visible. The American Constitution Society later tried to build a mirror image on the left. Both organizations shape which scholars get invited, funded, and amplified.
Foundations and donors sit behind this. The Olin Foundation, now wound down, seeded law and economics chairs at Chicago, Harvard, Yale, Stanford, Virginia, and elsewhere starting in the 1970s. Those chairs produced students who produced more students. Liberal funding scattered across Ford, MacArthur, Open Society, Russell Sage, and smaller civil rights foundations built the infrastructure for critical race theory, immigration scholarship, and civil rights history. The supplement industry of institutes, Federalist Society, ACS, ACLU, Cato, Heritage, Brookings, amplifies certain scholars and keeps others in view.
A smaller tier of individual brokers carries outsized weight. Brian Leiter’s blog and rankings set a shadow hierarchy. Jack Balkin at Yale cultivates coalitions through Balkinization. Cass Sunstein publishes without stopping and sits on every committee that matters. Laurence Tribe trained generations of constitutional scholars and clerks. Akhil Amar, Bruce Ackerman, Randy Barnett, Erwin Chemerinsky, Pamela Karlan, each controls a node in the citation network. When one of them places a student or blurbs a book, the endorsement carries weight that an unsigned peer review cannot match. Outside tenure letters from senior figures at peer schools function as the closest thing law has to peer review, and those letter-writers come from the same small pool.
The field lacks the external validation that sciences receive from experiment or that economics receives from prediction. What counts as legal knowledge is what the network agrees counts. The network is small, concentrated in a dozen zip codes, and cross-linked through clerkships, conferences, blurbs, workshops, and family resemblance in training.

Posted in Law | Comments Off on Who Decides What Counts As Scholarship In Law?

The MSM Has An Anti-AI Bias

Journalism’s coalition depends on a scarce commodity: the byline, the synthesis, the access. Social media broke the distribution monopoly. AI breaks the synthesis monopoly. A reporter who explains what a study says now competes with a chatbot that explains it faster and cites the study directly.
The economic threat runs right behind the authority threat. Google AI overviews have cut publisher referral traffic sharply. The NYT lawsuit against OpenAI is a coalition defending its territory. Every journalist watching AI write passable copy sees the junior jobs vanishing and the senior reporter’s scarcity value eroding.
Coalition-marking does work too. Inside the newsroom, skepticism of tech signals loyalty to the profession. Credulity toward Silicon Valley costs status. Anti-AI framing serves internal cohesion regardless of the merits of any particular story.
One complication. AI coverage runs more mixed than the social media wave did. Kevin Roose oscillates. The Atlantic runs boostery pieces and doomer pieces in the same month. Some outlets signed OpenAI licensing deals. The doomer angle lets reporters align with a respectable-coded faction (AI safety researchers) rather than look like Luddites. That gives the coverage more cover than anti-Facebook writing had.
Apply my four questions to the reporter covering AI. Who does he rely on for status, income, and protection? His editors, his guild, his professional community, all threatened by the tool. Who does he need to attract? Readers who pay for what AI threatens to commoditize. What beliefs mark him as a member? Skepticism toward tech claims, especially when tech claims undermine professional expertise. What does he lose by writing the skeptical piece? Nothing.

Posted in AI, Journalism | Comments Off on The MSM Has An Anti-AI Bias

Physiognomy

When I become interested in a thinker, one of the first things I do is to look up photos of him.
It’s hard to articulate to a distinguished reader like yourself why I do this.
I shudder to imagine what you must think of me. Prior to this post, you likely held me in high-esteem. And now, I am lower in status than the whore in church who asks to lead the Bible study.
Perhaps I should just say this is a result of my formation and leave it there.
This is tacit stuff. Who am I to try to articulate my shameful practice?
Mate, fair go. Life is different for the beautiful vs the ugly.
I must follow truth wherever it leads.
I’m not an idiot. Really. I don’t believe that physiognomy is destiny, but it is a catchy phrase that makes me smile.
What do I see in a photo? Age, class cues, ethnic and coalition markers, self-presentation style, bearing. You see whether the man grooms himself, what he signals with his glasses or haircut or clothes, how he holds his face for a camera. You see whether he looks tired, vital, guarded, amused. These signals do not tell you whether his argument is correct. They tell you something about the man who made it.
Faces carry information about hormonal profile, health, age, ancestry, affect, and self-presentation. Most of this is legible at a glance and consciously used in ordinary life. We hire, date, vote, and trust on face data constantly. The social prohibition falls on articulating what we already do.
The incentives against articulation are real. A scholar who says he reads faces risks association with Lombroso, phrenology, Nazi race science, and Progressive Era eugenics. The taboo protects against genuine harms. It also protects the fiction that we encounter ideas as disembodied propositions. Academics cannot admit they read faces because admitting it would contaminate the purity of the argument-exchange model their status rests on.
Photos help me track:
Coalition markers. A man’s face, hair, glasses, and bearing place him in a social world. Heterodox economist, reform rabbi, evangelical pastor, tech founder, literary critic. These types look different because grooming and self-presentation are coalition signals. You read the signal and update on whose approval he seeks.
Hormonal and energetic state. Testosterone, cortisol, vitality, and fatigue show on faces. A thinker running on fumes writes differently than one at peak. Knowing which you are reading helps you weight the work.
Congruence. Does the face match the prose? A man who writes with swagger and looks cowed, or who writes with humility and looks imperious, is telling you something about the gap between his self-presentation in print and in flesh.
Age and life stage. A man at thirty writes from a different place than the same man at sixty. The face tells you where he stands.
Affect. Some thinkers look haunted. Some look amused. Some look angry. The emotional register of the face primes you for the emotional register of the work, and mismatches are informative.
None of this is physiognomy in the Lavater sense. It is closer to what Goffman called the presentation of self, read backward from photographs. The academic refusal to engage it leaves a gap that popular culture fills with crude versions. Somebody articulating it carefully would be doing real work. The incentives against doing so are enormous.
People get to choose most of their photos online. This curation of the self matters.
Minor physical anomalies research, abbreviated MPA, was a scale built by Mary Waldrop and Charles Halverson in 1971. It catalogs eighteen subtle deviations from typical morphology: adherent earlobes, low-seated ears, asymmetric ears, malformed ears, fine electric hair, abnormal hair whorls, epicanthal folds, wide-spaced or narrow-spaced eyes, high-steepled or narrow palate, furrowed tongue, smooth or rough spots on the tongue, curved fifth finger, single palmar crease, third toe longer than second, webbed toes, large gap between first and second toes. None of these are disfigurements in the ordinary sense. They are subclinical markers, visible only to someone looking for them.
The biological story runs through prenatal development. The face and the brain develop from the same embryonic tissue, ectoderm and neural crest cells. Disruption in utero, from maternal smoking, alcohol, infection, toxin exposure, malnutrition, or genetic stress, can mark both at once. The face records prenatal history.
The Copenhagen study from 1989 is the canonical paper. Elizabeth Kandel, Patricia Brennan, Sarnoff Mednick, and Norman Michelson used a Danish birth cohort. They measured MPAs at ages eleven to thirteen and checked police records at ages twenty to twenty-two. Recidivistic violent offenders showed elevated MPA counts compared to men with one violent offense or none. PubMed The men with multiple violent offenses carried more of the markers than the men with one offense, who carried more than the men with none. A dose-response pattern.
Louise Arseneault and colleagues followed in 2000 with a Montreal study. They assessed MPAs in 170 adolescent boys from low-socioeconomic-status Montreal neighborhoods using the eighteen-item Waldrop scale. Psychiatry OnlineLouise-arseneault Each additional mouth anomaly raised violent-delinquency risk by a factor of 1.7. When they removed mouth anomalies from the total count, the overall MPA effect vanished. Louise-arseneault The authors suggested mouth anomalies might track both neurological deficits and early feeding problems that complicate socialization. PubMed The mouth result echoed earlier findings of mouth anomalies in psychotic children and schizophrenics.
Adrian Raine at Penn has carried the biosocial program forward, though his most cited work uses brain imaging rather than MPAs. PET scans of murderers showing reduced prefrontal activity in impulsive subgroups. Structural abnormalities in amygdala and corpus callosum among antisocial populations. MPAs appear in his synthesis as one marker among several, not the center of attention.
The framework extends beyond violence. A 2015 study administered the Waldrop scale to men referred for assessment after sexual assault or other illegal sexual behavior. MPA indices correlated with penile response to depictions of children, number of child victims, and possession of child pornography. PubMed The prenatal-origin thesis travels into paraphilia research.
The body of work stays small for identifiable reasons.
Funding committees grew up after Lombroso and phrenology and Nazi race science. They know what criminology looked like before it got respectable. A grant proposal that says “we will measure murderers’ facial features” sets off institutional alarms even when the actual measurement is adherent earlobes and palate shape.
Sociology-dominated criminology resists the framework. The field staked itself on social explanations: labelling theory, strain, differential association, criminal justice process. Biological markers threaten the apparatus. Biosocial criminology remains a small subfield, and Raine, Kevin Beaver, Anthony Walsh, and John Paul Wright have taken career friction for doing it.
The effect sizes are modest. Few men with many MPAs become violent offenders. Most violent offenders do not carry strikingly high counts. The finding is a population-level shift in distribution, not a diagnostic signature. That makes it easy to dismiss and hard to popularize.
The face sits inside a sacred zone the brain does not occupy. You can show a PET scan of a murderer’s prefrontal cortex and no one panics. Annotate his face with notes about ear asymmetry and palate shape and the room empties.
Lombroso haunts the closet. He examined thousands of Italian prisoners in the 1870s and claimed he could identify the born criminal by atavistic stigmata: asymmetric face, large jaw, sloping forehead, handle-shaped ears, fleshy lips. His theory of atavism was wrong, his method contaminated, his racial conclusions poison. But his specific observations overlap a fair bit with the modern MPA list. Asymmetric ears, palate shape, mouth anomalies, fifth-finger shape. The Copenhagen and Montreal findings vindicate a thin slice of what Lombroso saw, stripped of the theory he wrapped it in. Modern researchers do not say this aloud.
Developmental disruption in utero marks both face and brain. The facial traces are easier to see than the neural ones. Population studies pick up the correlation. The face does not cause the violence. It is a slow leak from the same underground source that produced the neural substrate of impulsivity, low frustration tolerance, and poor emotional regulation.
I wonder how Monty Python might create a scene about a PhD student in Criminology deciding to do his thesis on MPA. AI suggested this:

The Earlobe Heresy

INT. DAY. THE OFFICE OF PROFESSOR MARGARET CRUMB, CHAIR OF CRITICAL CRIMINOLOGY, UNIVERSITY OF EAST WESSEX.
A dusty office. Towers of Foucault. A poster reads BIOLOGY IS A CONSTRUCT. Professor Crumb, in a cardigan, sips herbal tea. A knock.
CRUMB: Enter.
(NIGEL TWISTLETON-PERCH enters. Thirty-two, beige jumper, spectacles askew, binder labeled “THESIS PROPOSAL (DRAFT 14).” He has the face of a man who has never won or lost anything.)
NIGEL: Professor Crumb. Thank you for seeing me.
CRUMB: Sit down, Nigel. How is your work progressing on… remind me…
NIGEL: Narratives of Resistance Among Shoplifting Single Mothers in Post-Industrial Doncaster.
CRUMB: Yes. Marvelous. Foucauldian?
NIGEL: Extensively.
CRUMB: Good lad. Now what did you want to discuss?
NIGEL: Well. I’d like to change my topic.
CRUMB (encouraging): A pivot! Splendid. Queering the shoplift, perhaps. Or intersectional…
NIGEL: Minor Physical Anomalies and Recidivistic Violent Offending.
(Long pause. The tea hovers halfway to her lips.)
CRUMB: I’m sorry. Say that again.
NIGEL: Minor Physical Anomalies. The Waldrop scale. I was reading Kandel and Mednick, the Danish cohort, and I thought…
CRUMB: Nigel.
NIGEL: …adherent earlobes, palate shape, mouth anomalies…
CRUMB: NIGEL.
(She sets down her tea. Walks to the window. Closes the blinds. Returns to her desk.)
CRUMB: Nigel. Tell me truthfully. Is this a joke?
NIGEL: No.
CRUMB: Has someone put you up to this? The Economics Department? Dawkins?
NIGEL: I read a paper.
CRUMB: You read a paper.
NIGEL: Several papers.
CRUMB (whispering): Where did you find them?
NIGEL: PubMed.
(She crosses herself.)
CRUMB: Nigel. Listen to me. Minor Physical Anomalies is not a field of study. It is a disease. It killed a man at Leicester in 2007. We do not speak of him. His widow received a settlement.
NIGEL: I only want to measure earlobes.
CRUMB: THAT IS HOW IT STARTS.
(The door bursts open. A MAN in a grey suit enters, flanked by two people in hi-vis vests marked INSTITUTIONAL REVIEW BOARD.)
IRB MAN: We heard the word “earlobes.”
CRUMB: Gerald, it’s fine, he’s just…
IRB MAN: Protocol dictates that any mention of measurable facial features in a criminology context triggers a Level Three Ethics Review. He will have to fill in Form 47-B.
NIGEL: Is that the long one?
IRB MAN: Seventy-one pages. Page forty-three asks you to account for Lombroso.
NIGEL: I was going to distinguish my work from Lombroso by…
(Another door bursts open. A door appears where no door was. THREE CARDINALS enter in red robes.)
FIRST CARDINAL: NOBODY EXPECTS THE SPANISH INQUISITION.
SECOND CARDINAL: Our chief weapon is surprise. Surprise and fear. Fear and surprise. And a moral panic about race science.
THIRD CARDINAL: And ruthless efficiency.
FIRST CARDINAL: Our THREE chief weapons are…
CRUMB: Yes, thank you, Cardinals, we have rather a situation.
FIRST CARDINAL (examining Nigel): He does not look like a criminal.
SECOND CARDINAL: That’s the problem. He looks like a Volvo driver.
THIRD CARDINAL: If he looked like a criminal we could send him away and nobody would mind. Do you have any cousins in prison, young man?
NIGEL: My uncle Derek was once fined for fishing without a license.
FIRST CARDINAL: UNACCEPTABLE.
(The filing cabinet behind Professor Crumb begins to shake. It opens. CESARE LOMBROSO climbs out, Victorian dress, calipers in hand.)
LOMBROSO: Did someone say my name?
CRUMB: No.
LOMBROSO: I distinctly heard my name.
CRUMB: Get back in the cabinet, Cesare.
LOMBROSO (approaching Nigel, raising calipers): Let me see your forehead, boy…
NIGEL: I’d rather you didn’t.
LOMBROSO: Sloping! Slightly sloping! Ha! An atavist! A born nomenclator! A THESIS SUPERVISOR in embryo!
CRUMB: CESARE.
(She shoves him back in the cabinet and locks it. Pounding from within.)
CRUMB (breathing hard, to Nigel): You see what you’ve done.
NIGEL: I just wanted to measure ears.
(The window opens. FOUCAULT’S GHOST floats in, semi-transparent, smoking.)
FOUCAULT: Mon cher, the body is inscribed by power. To measure the ear is to re-inscribe the carceral gaze upon the very…
CRUMB: Michel, not now.
(Foucault shrugs, floats to the drinks cabinet.)
IRB MAN: Mr. Twistleton-Perch, you will also need Form 92-C (Eugenics Disavowal), Form 116 (Lombroso Non-Affiliation), and a short essay titled “Why I Am Not A Fascist.”
NIGEL: How short?
IRB MAN: Forty thousand words.
NIGEL: I only want to look at earlobes.
FIRST CARDINAL: HE SAID IT AGAIN.
(The Cardinals cross themselves.)
CRUMB: Nigel. Listen. I am trying to help you. Pick another topic. Queer Phenomenology of the CCTV. The Semiotics of the Tagged Hoodie. Critical Race Theory of the Traffic Cone. I will sign off on any of these today.
NIGEL: But the Danish data…
CRUMB: THE DANES ARE NOT TO BE TRUSTED. They have a king. They eat pastry. Their cohort studies ruin lives.
(A giant ANIMATED FOOT in the Terry Gilliam style descends from the ceiling with a splat, squashing the IRB Man. A raspberry sound. The foot ascends.)
CRUMB (unfazed): Gerald will be missed.
NIGEL (quietly): I could just measure the ears of people who’ve already consented to other studies. Nothing invasive. Existing photographs.
LOMBROSO (muffled, from the cabinet): YES. YES. LET HIM DO IT.
CRUMB: SHUT UP, CESARE.
FOUCAULT: The archive is never innocent.
NIGEL: Professor. I’ve read the literature. The effect sizes are modest. I won’t overclaim. I’ll caveat everything. I just think someone should check whether the Montreal mouth finding replicates in a British cohort.
(A long pause. Crumb looks at him for the first time with something like pity.)
CRUMB: Nigel. You are a nice boy. Your jumper is beige. You drive, I assume, a Nissan Micra.
NIGEL: A Skoda Octavia.
CRUMB: Close enough. You have no scent of combat on you. You have never been punched. You believe that good work protects its author. It does not. If you publish this thesis, no department in the English-speaking world will hire you. Your mother will receive phone calls. Your name will appear on a list. The list has seventeen other names on it. Twelve of them drive Ubers. Three are in Hungary. Two teach at Liberty University and lie about it at Christmas.
NIGEL (small voice): But it’s true.
FIRST CARDINAL: OH, HE’S DONE IT NOW.
(The Cardinals advance. Foucault sighs. Lombroso pounds on the cabinet door. The foot descends again, hovers menacingly. An animated hand with a stamp marked “RETRACTED” emerges from a desk drawer.)
CRUMB (closing her eyes): I’ll let the Cardinals finish up. Nigel, for what it’s worth. You had promise.
NIGEL: Will I still get my funding?
CRUMB: Hm?
NIGEL: The funding. My stipend.
CRUMB: Oh. The committee met this morning. You’ve been reallocated to a new project.
NIGEL: What’s the project?
CRUMB: Narratives of Resistance Among Shoplifting Single Mothers in Post-Industrial Doncaster.
NIGEL: But that’s my old project.
CRUMB: Yes. Isn’t it lovely how things work out?
CUT TO: A BBC-style ANNOUNCER at a desk in a field, holding an umbrella.
ANNOUNCER: And now for something completely different. A man with earlobes that match.
(A MAN stands in a field. His earlobes match.)
MAN: Hello.
(Credits. Small print at the bottom: “No criminologists were harmed in the making of this sketch. Several were mildly inconvenienced.”)
END.

Posted in Crime, Physiognomy | Comments Off on Physiognomy

The Biggest Subversives In The MSM

The exiles left the building: Bari Weiss, Matt Taibbi, Glenn Greenwald, Andrew Sullivan, Nellie Bowles, Jesse Singal, Paul Krugman. The figures worth watching stay inside and work the institution from within its credentialing logic. Your question is about the ones who stayed.
At the New York Times, Ross Douthat writes Catholic natalism, UFO curiosity, and a patient hearing for right-wing intellectuals into the paper of record. His column treats religion as a live option, not an anthropology exhibit. Bret Stephens attacks DEI programs, academic mediocrity, and COVID-era public health guild overreach from the opinion page. John McWhorter calls third-wave antiracism a religion and does so in the Times’ own voice. Nicholas Confessore broke the Claudine Gay plagiarism story and wrote the long Michigan piece showing a quarter billion spent on DEI with a worsening racial climate. Ezra Klein attacks blue-state procedural sclerosis and NIMBY Democrats under his abundance banner, which pulls liberal self-criticism into respectable territory. David Leonhardt runs data against ideology on crime, schools, and COVID. Michael Barbaro is a fixture but not a subversive. Matt Richtel’s teen mental health series aligns with a narrative you distrust (Haidt), so set him aside.
At the Wall Street Journal, Jason Riley argues against affirmative action from a Black conservative perch the paper protects. Holman Jenkins goes against climate and pandemic consensus in short columns most readers miss. Kimberley Strassel works the political machinery beat against progressive assumption. Pamela Paul, pushed out of NYT opinion in early 2025, now sits at the Journal as writer-at-large and carries her heterodoxies on trans medicine, MeToo overreach, and Gaza campus politics. Barton Swaim’s Weekend Interview slot surfaces conservative intellectuals the other elite papers ignore. Peggy Noonan does a softer version of the same.
At the Atlantic, Graeme Wood’s “What ISIS Really Wants” cut against the “nothing to do with Islam” consensus in 2015, and he has continued in that register with his Andrew Tate profile and his El Salvador/Bukele reporting that refuses the simple autocrat frame. Helen Lewis writes on trans, identity, and cancel culture from a British liberal perch the magazine treats as respectable. Conor Friedersdorf keeps a civil libertarian line. Michael Powell moved from NYT to the Atlantic in 2023 and continues his subversive reporting on campus and speech issues. Jonathan Chait, now also at the Atlantic, attacks the illiberal left from inside liberalism. Caitlin Flanagan still files there occasionally on Catholic and class themes.
At the Financial Times, Janan Ganesh writes the most class-conscious and anti-utopian column in English-language elite journalism, and he does it in a paper read by the global managerial class. Martin Wolf has broken with neoliberal consensus in his later years on China, inequality, and democratic crisis. Edward Luce does establishment analysis that sometimes names what the Washington consensus cannot. Gillian Tett reads elite behavior anthropologically.
At the Washington Post, the bench has thinned. Megan McArdle holds contrarian libertarian ground. George Will does the conservative column. Ruth Marcus left in early 2025 after her own conflict with Bezos-era editorial direction.
At the New Yorker, investigative subversion runs on a separate track from opinion. Ronan Farrow and Jane Mayer file stories that puncture official accounts, and the magazine publishes them. Masha Gessen holds a position other writers cannot, partly from identity protection and partly from prose quality. Malcolm Gladwell flirts with heterodoxy but usually inside liberal frames.
If you want the shortest high-signal list of names to watch for subversion slipped into elite MSM copy, I would pick: Ross Douthat, John McWhorter, Nicholas Confessore, Michael Powell, Pamela Paul, Graeme Wood, Janan Ganesh, Jason Riley, Holman Jenkins, and Martin Wolf. Each has cultivated a form of protection the institution cannot attack without costing itself more than the heretic costs: religious conservatism, linguistic expertise, investigative rigor, foreign perch, minority status, or tonal sophistication. That protection is the price of admission for the subversion to appear in print.
Jodi Kantor of the NYT is a major name but she is not obviously subversive. She is prestige investigative journalism operating inside NYT progressive assumptions. Her targets line up with what the paper already wants investigated.
The Weinstein exposé with Megan Twohey in 2017 looked subversive of Hollywood liberal pieties, but it became the founding document of MeToo, which was consensus within six months. She rode the wave. She did not swim against it. Her Amazon warehouse reporting hit a target the Times was already comfortable hitting. Her Supreme Court ethics coverage, especially the Alito upside-down flag story and the Clarence Thomas gifts reporting with ProPublica’s adjacent work, sits squarely inside the liberal legal establishment’s preferred narrative about the Roberts court.
The test for subversion is whether a reporter files stories that make NYT readers uncomfortable with their own coalition. Confessore’s Claudine Gay investigation did that. Powell’s ACLU reporting did that. Kantor’s work confirms progressive priors. When she investigates power, she investigates power the paper has already coded as legitimate to investigate. She does not file the mirror-image story on, say, a progressive foundation’s hiring practices, a Democratic senator’s self-dealing, or the Sacklers’ liberal philanthropy the same way she files on Amazon or Weinstein or Alito.
She is an exceptionally skilled reporter and a celebrated byline. She is not a heretic. She is an orthodox priest of a high order.
Amy Chozick covered the 2008 and 2016 Clinton campaigns and wrote Chasing Hillary (2018). She said Clinton “likes to drink” and would have been “the booziest president since FDR.” The famous line came during an ABC News interview promoting the book: “We were on the campaign trail in 2008 and the press thought she was just taking shots to pander to voters in Pennsylvania. Um, no.”
Terry McAuliffe backed her up on the record: “She loves to sit, throw ’em back. So to me this is nothin’ new.”
Kantor covered Obama more than Clinton. Her major Clinton work came earlier and focused on biography and campaign dynamics, not personal habits. Her big scoops were the Obamas as a couple, then Weinstein in 2017 with Megan Twohey.
The Chozick line sat inside an affectionate campaign memoir by a reporter who had traveled with Clinton for years. The subversive detail was smuggled in next to flattering portraiture. Nobody treated it as a hit piece because the vehicle was loyalist. That is how information crosses the moat into elite MSM: wrapped in enough coalition signaling that the guards wave it through.
Amy Chozick is not a subversive. She is a campaign chronicler who wrote one candid memoir, then took the soft exit.
Chasing Hillary had some subversive material: the drinking, the hostility of Clinton’s aides to the press (they called the traveling reporters “The Guys”), the campaign’s dysfunction, Hillary’s fear of the press. But the book came out in April 2018, a year and a half after Clinton lost. The target had already fallen. Writing candid things about a defeated politician is not the same as writing them while the coalition still needs to protect her. Confessore broke the Gay plagiarism story while Gay was still Harvard’s president. That is the test. Chozick wrote her dishy stuff after the Clinton machine had nothing left to offer or withhold.
Look at what she has done since. She moved to Los Angeles. She adapted Chasing Hillary into The Girls on the Bus for HBO Max. She is developing a feature film. Her Instagram bio says “recovering journalist.” At the NYT she now files access-heavy profile journalism: the Lauren Sanchez Bezos cover piece in April 2026 is representative. Sanchez comes out of it as a woman who “loves helicopters” and “protects the narwhal” and wakes at 6 am next to her best friend husband. That is billionaire PR wrapped in Times prestige. Her January 2025 LA fires op-ed called for a “Churchillian” leader with “a dollop of despot” and named Giuliani and Cuomo as models. That is not subversion. That is the standard prestige-media imagination: personalized heroics, celebrity register, Hollywood framing.
Her career arc is the prestige-to-Hollywood pipeline. Maureen Dowd without the column. Hard beat reporting, one juicy book cashing in the access, then pivot to screenwriting and billionaire profiles. The subversive line about Clinton’s drinking was a flash of candor inside an otherwise loyalist product, and she has not written anything comparable against a still-live coalition target since.
The comparison makes it clearest. Confessore, Powell, Riley, McWhorter file the same kind of copy year after year even when the institution gets uncomfortable. Chozick filed it once, collected the book deal and the HBO adaptation, and moved to the softer side of the business. Subversion as a career requires repetition. One book is a moment, not a practice.

Posted in Journalism | Comments Off on The Biggest Subversives In The MSM

The Plandemic

I don’t hold any major conspiratorial views on the Covid pandemic. In fact, I believe that our elites (including in politics, public health, finance, etc) did a better than expected job with regard to Covid, even though they made mistakes.
I have zero patience with Plandemic conspiracies, but I recognize that people who hold these beliefs may well be great people who are successful in business and in life and they just hold some theories I regard as not credible. Hugo Mercier explains why we did not evolve to be gullible with regard to our vital interests, but with regard to stories that have no bearing on our daily responsibilities, we can often afford to do as we want.
The conventional wisdom is that a believer in the Plandemic suffers from motivated reasoning, cognitive laziness, or epistemic corruption by bad media. I don’t think these frames are necessary. Mercier distinguishes intuitive beliefs, which carry behavioral consequences and therefore get filtered rigorously, from reflective beliefs, which sit in a kind of cognitive holding pen. Reflective beliefs can be entertained, repeated, even defended without being connected to action. A Seventh-day Adventist who believes that we live in end times is just as likely to do his job as the next guy. At work, he effectively suspends his eschatology. A man’s Plandemic beliefs do not require him to do anything. He will not storm Pfizer headquarters. His October 7 conspiracy beliefs do not require him to change his work as an insurance agent. The beliefs are inert in the behavioral sense Mercier describes. His open vigilance does not engage them the way it engages threats to his family, because the costs of being wrong are social and coalitional rather than operational.
Mercier’s Edgar Welch case is the comparison. Welch believed the Pizzagate rumor intuitively, which is why he drove to the restaurant armed. The millions who endorsed the rumor on polls believed it reflectively, which is why they did nothing.
The coalitional function is the second layer. Conspiracy beliefs about the Plandemic and October 7 are not free-floating errors. They are signals of membership in specific coalitions. The Plandemic belief signals alignment with a coalition skeptical of public health institutions, government authority, and mainstream media. The October 7 conspiracy beliefs, depending on their content, signal alignment with coalitions invested in particular framings of the Israel-Hamas conflict that mainstream accounts resist. Holding these beliefs and voicing them in the right company is coalition maintenance. Abandoning them would cost him membership in communities whose approval and trust he values.
John M. Doris adds the situational layer. In certain situations, voicing these conspiracy theories raises alarm and in other situations, it does not.
The conventional view expects cognitive consistency across domains. The evidence shows domain-specific competence calibrated to where feedback is fast and coalition-specific belief calibrated to where coalition membership matters.
This pattern is common in community life, not rare. Successful businesspeople who hold conspiracy beliefs, competent physicians who hold fringe religious commitments, careful lawyers who hold political views their own legal training should complicate. The pattern puzzles only the observer who expects the brain to run one coherent belief system. Mercier and Doris together describe a brain that runs several, each calibrated to the coalition and situation it serves. The integration the folk view expects does not exist because the cognitive and social architecture was never built to produce it.

Posted in Covid | Comments Off on The Plandemic

Schmitt Under Mercier and Doris

Carl Schmitt built a political theory that assigns constitutive force to sovereign decision, mythic mobilization, and the friend-enemy distinction. Schmitt recognized the prior political existence of the people as the ground any decision operates on. Constitutional Theory places pouvoir constituant before any sovereign act. Acclamation governs the leader’s continued authority. Substantive homogeneity precedes politics and conditions what any sovereign can do. Schmitt is not a voluntarist who thinks the leader conjures the demos.
The critique operates on the margin Schmitt left to the sovereign and to mythic articulation. Hugo Mercier and John M. Doris, read together, shrink that margin further than Schmitt allowed.
Hugo Mercier’s argument supplies the cognitive half. Humans did not evolve to be gullible. Open vigilance runs in proportion to stakes. For matters that bear on vital interests, people run rigorous checks on what they are told. Workplace rumors about layoffs run at 80-100% accuracy because employees track who said what and verify against their own knowledge. Soldiers in Caplow’s WWII study transmitted accurate operational rumors because errors had consequences. Hawaiians rejected the Pearl Harbor sabotage rumors about Japanese-Americans because they could see for themselves.
For matters that do not bear on personal stakes, vigilance runs weakly because running it is not worth the cost. This is where reflective beliefs live. The Chinese citizen who believes the United Airlines settlement was $140 million, the American truther who holds meetings in unsecured auditoriums, the Pakistani shopkeeper who says Israelis orchestrated 9/11. These people profess the beliefs. They do not act on them because the beliefs are reflective, held without rigorous vigilance precisely because the stakes are low. Intuitive beliefs drive behavior. Reflective beliefs sit inertly.
Mass persuasion mostly fails. Propaganda succeeds, when it succeeds, by building on existing consensus, confirming existing values, bolstering existing prejudices. Mercier quotes Kershaw on Nazi propaganda, and the general principle holds. Demagogues surf opinion they did not create. The leader who tries to pull a population against the grain of existing commitments discovers he cannot. Beliefs often follow behavior rather than producing it. People who want to commit atrocities look for moral justification. Doctors who want to treat want theories to back them up.
John M. Doris supplies the behavioral half. Lack of Character and the situationist research it draws on show that behavior tracks situation more tightly than disposition. Doris is not denying that character exists. He accepts consistency within similar situations. What he denies is globalism, the view that broad traits produce consistent behavior across situations. The domain-specificity of practical life means the upstanding public servant can be a faithless husband without contradiction because the marital and political domains engage different cognitive, motivational, and evaluative structures. Reliability is proportional to situational similarity.
The Holocaust material is central for Doris. There are not enough monsters to go around to produce mass killing. The perpetrators were ordinary men whose previous lives showed ordinary compassion. Major Trapp wept while issuing murderous commands. The Reserve Police Battalion drank heavily because sober life was intolerable. Mengele brought sugar to children he was about to send to the crematoria. These are not hypocrites performing virtue. They are people whose dispositions are real within their prior domains and whose behaviors in the killing situations are produced by the situational architecture the regime engineered. Moral drift accomplishes what monstrous character would have to accomplish on the globalist view.
The combination cuts against Schmitt at three points.
Take the friend-enemy distinction first. Schmitt presents the distinction as the criterion of the political and the sovereign’s act of naming as the decisive articulation of the community’s self-understanding. Grant that the people must have prior political substance capable of receiving the naming. The question remains what happens in the moment of articulation.
Mercier shows why the moment does less than Schmitt assigns to it. The population that has a stake in the naming runs vigilance on it. The population without stakes holds the naming as reflective belief, available for profession but inert with respect to behavior. Nazi propaganda did not produce operational anti-Semitism in populations that lacked prior anti-Semitic commitment. In regions where pre-Nazi anti-Semitism ran high, the propaganda found soil prepared for it. In regions where it ran low, propaganda produced backlash. The naming reached coalitions already prepared. It did not reach the rest.
Doris adds that even among those for whom the naming survived their vigilance, behavioral response depended on situation. The German who agreed with the ideology but lived in a neighborhood where his Jewish neighbors were familiar and his social network included families who would disapprove of participation in a pogrom may not have participated. The same German, transferred to a frontier town in occupied Poland where peer composition, officer framing, and physical arrangement ran differently, may have participated without having changed his beliefs. Browning’s Ordinary Men shows this precisely. Reserve Police Battalion 101 contained men with varied ideological commitments. Participation in mass murder tracked situation, not belief. Peer presence, officer framing, the structure of the killing operations, the availability of alcohol, the absence of witnesses outside the unit. Schmitt’s picture treats the political community as mobilized by shared recognition of the enemy. Doris shows that recognition and mobilization are different problems, and mobilization runs through situational engineering that the naming does not supply.
Take mythic mobilization second. Schmitt’s Crisis of Parliamentary Democracy treats political myth, Sorel’s general strike, the nationalist myth of the nation, the fascist myth of the state, as capable of binding populations to action. Schmitt concedes the myth requires a people prepared to receive it. He still credits the myth with generative force in organizing action around shared commitment.
Mercier’s evidence on religious conversion cuts against the generative claim. New religious movements grow through preexisting ties. Friends recruit friends. Families bring family members. The myth comes after the social investment. Belief follows involvement. Iannaccone’s line, which Mercier cites, captures it. Strong attachments draw people into religious groups. Strong beliefs develop slowly or not at all. The same pattern runs in political mobilization. Fascism in interwar Europe recruited through networks of veterans, frustrated professionals, and small businessmen whose material position pushed them toward nationalist politics. The myth of the state ratified coalitions that existed. It did not assemble them from unaffiliated Italians who heard the myth and converted.
Doris extends the point. Even among those whose prior commitments prepared them for the myth, behavioral activation depended on situation. The nationalist at the rally behaves differently from the same nationalist at home reading a newspaper. The rally engineers the situation. Peer presence, visual symbolism, physical arrangement, and collective movement produce behavior the same person would not produce elsewhere. Schmitt credits the myth with the mobilizational work. Doris says the situation does most of the work. The myth provides the ideological cover under which the situation operates. Strip the situation and the myth mobilizes no one. Strip the myth and the situation often produces the behavior anyway under different ideological cover. This is why comparable mass behaviors appear across regimes with opposed myths. The situations rhyme. The myths diverge.
Take the decision on the exception third. Schmitt’s sovereign is the one who decides when the normal order suspends. The decision constitutes sovereignty by demonstrating that law is grounded in a decision outside law. Grant that the decision operates within the constraints of popular acclamation. The decision still carries substantial weight in Schmitt’s picture as the act that reveals and sustains sovereignty.
Mercier’s evidence on reputation and trust reframes the decision. The sovereign who decides is spending credit his audience has extended to him provisionally. The credit lasts until reality checks it. For populations with stakes in the decision, vigilance remains active. They evaluate whether the decision fits their prior sense of the leader’s competence and benevolence. They update on how the decision works out. Hitler’s decisions retained force while painless military victories accumulated. After Stalingrad, as Kershaw documents, the vigilance that had been suspended under success reactivated under failure. The sovereign did not become less decisive. The audience stopped extending credit because the stakes had become personal. Schmitt treats the decision as the ground. Mercier suggests the decision is the downstream product of ongoing audience trust that could withdraw whenever reality intruded on the audience’s interests.
Doris adds that the audience’s willingness to extend credit tracks situation. The German population of 1941 and the German population of 1944 are largely the same population placed in different situations. The situational features that produced compliance in 1941, peer conformity, information control, visible regime success, reduced costs of obedience, shifted by 1944. Peer networks fractured as men died or were captured. Information control loosened as foreign broadcasts penetrated. Regime success visibly failed. Costs of obedience rose as the war came home. The same people whose dispositions supposedly supported the regime withdrew their support when the situation changed. Schmitt’s account of sovereignty cannot explain this because his theory treats sovereignty as constituted by decision and acclamation without registering how tightly acclamation tracks situational features the sovereign does not control.
The three corrections compound. The friend-enemy naming reaches those whose stakes make them run vigilance on it, and that population is smaller than Schmitt assumes. Among those reached, behavior tracks situation. Mythic mobilization ratifies preexisting coalition formation, and activation depends on situational engineering. Sovereign decision is credit extended provisionally by audiences whose willingness to extend tracks situational features beyond the sovereign’s control. The Schmittian architecture survives the corrections only in reduced form. The sovereign articulates where articulation is possible. The myth provides vocabulary where vocabulary is needed. The decision operates where credit has been extended. None of these is nothing. None of these is what Schmitt’s theory, in its full form, claims.
A practical consequence follows for how political violence gets explained. Schmitt’s framework asks what the sovereign decided and what myth mobilized the people. Mercier and Doris ask which populations had stakes that activated their vigilance, which populations held the regime’s framings as reflective beliefs that could sit alongside contrary behavior, what situational engineering produced activation into action, and what features of context maintained or withdrew the credit extended to leaders. The second set of questions predicts cases better. It explains why the same rhetoric produces mass violence in one setting and fails in another. It explains why populations previously compliant become resistant without changing their beliefs. It explains why perpetrators so often fail to match the ideological profile the atrocity seems to require.
Schmitt’s admirers sometimes say these corrections miss the point. Schmitt, they say, is doing philosophy of the political, not social science of political behavior. The response does not help Schmitt. If the philosophy of the political does not cash out in claims about how political behavior works, it reduces to an aesthetic preference for certain political forms. The preference can be defended on its own terms. It cannot be defended as revealing the essence of politics, because politics as it happens is better described by stakes-proportional vigilance, reflective versus intuitive belief, and situational behavior than by decision, myth, and friend-enemy articulation.
The smaller Schmitt who survives is a diagnostician of procedural thinness in liberal institutions when populations have shifted in ways the institutions cannot contain. This Schmitt identifies real vulnerabilities in parliamentary systems under certain conditions. The larger Schmitt, the theorist of sovereignty as decision and politics as myth, rests on a theory of leader-population relations that the cognitive and behavioral evidence together dismantle. The people do get a vote. The vote is a continuous exercise of vigilance calibrated to stakes, through which credit is extended or withdrawn. The behavior the vote produces tracks situational features the sovereign often cannot engineer. The political form that results is less the achievement of decision than the equilibrium of populations managing their reflective and intuitive beliefs through situations that make certain behaviors salient. Schmitt saw part of this. He did not see enough of it, and the part he missed is the part that matters most for predicting how politics moves.
Mercier alone gives a cognitive account of why most political communication produces small effects. People run vigilance in proportion to stakes. Most political content reaches audiences whose stakes are low, so the vigilance is minimal and the resulting beliefs are reflective, available for profession but inert with respect to behavior. Where stakes are high, vigilance runs hard and persuasion against prior commitment fails. The framework explains why propaganda campaigns, intellectual projects, and charismatic appeals produce less behavioral change than their authors imagine.
Used alone, Mercier can leave an impression that the question is mainly what beliefs people hold. Doris corrects this. Behavior is produced principally by situations, not by beliefs or traits. Even where vigilance produces the beliefs an intellectual wants the audience to hold, the behaviors that would follow those beliefs require situational architectures that the beliefs themselves do not create.
Used alone, Doris can slide toward a view of humans as blank behavioral plastic shaped by whatever situation surrounds them. Mercier corrects this. People are not blank. They are processing messages through vigilance calibrated to their stakes, and the beliefs that result, whether intuitive or reflective, interact with the situations they encounter.
Combining them specifies a two-stage process. Messages get filtered by vigilance proportional to stakes. The beliefs that result range from intuitive beliefs that drive behavior to reflective beliefs that sit inertly. Action, when it occurs, is produced principally by the situational features the actor encounters, with the beliefs playing a role that ranges from substantial (for intuitive beliefs in situations that activate them) to minimal (for reflective beliefs in situations that do not).
This is why the combination cuts effectively against Schmitt. Schmitt’s sovereign decision assumes a one-stage process. The leader articulates, the population responds. Mercier breaks the first stage by showing that most populations hold most political content as reflective belief because their personal stakes are low, and the populations that do have stakes run vigilance rigorously enough to resist what does not fit prior commitment. Doris breaks the second stage by showing that even where beliefs get formed, action runs through situations that the leader’s articulation does not touch. The sovereign who names the enemy faces two independent failures. The naming may fail to penetrate vigilance where stakes are high, or may land as inert reflective belief where stakes are low. Even where it becomes intuitive belief for some, the situational architecture may not translate belief into action.
The combination handles Browning’s Ordinary Men well. The men of Reserve Police Battalion 101 did not need to be persuaded of Nazi ideology to participate in mass murder. Many did not hold strong ideological commitments. Mercier explains why propaganda did not produce ideological uniformity in the battalion. The situations of ordinary German life had not put the propaganda’s content at the center of most men’s vital interests, so vigilance had not processed it rigorously and the beliefs remained reflective for many of them. Doris explains why ideological uniformity was unnecessary for the atrocity. The situations the battalion operated in produced the behavior regardless of belief. Peer presence, officer framing, physical arrangement of the killing work, reframing of victims, availability of alcohol.
Running the other direction, the combination explains cases of resistance. The German populations that withdrew support from Hitler after Stalingrad did not change their reflective beliefs in any deep sense. The situations changed, and the change brought their vital interests into contact with the war’s cost. Vigilance, previously unengaged because victory made the regime’s claims low-stakes, now engaged because hunger, death notices, and visible failure made the claims high-stakes. Mercier explains why the propaganda then lost its capacity to retain credit. Doris explains why the same population whose situational compliance had produced compliance now produced criticism and disengagement.
The analytical range extends beyond political violence. Religious conversion, professional formation, ideological drift in institutions, the failure of educational interventions to produce lasting attitudinal change, the gap between survey responses and voting behavior, the disconnect between public commitments and private conduct. All sit on the same two-stage structure. Vigilance filters messages in proportion to stakes, producing intuitive and reflective beliefs in a mix that depends on what matters personally. Behavior gets activated by situations that may or may not align with the beliefs. Interventions that address only one stage predictably underperform.
The combination disciplines two opposite temptations. The ideational temptation credits texts, arguments, and ideologies with social consequences they do not produce. Mercier corrects this by specifying that most such content reaches audiences as reflective belief or fails to penetrate vigilance at all. The dispositional temptation treats people as having stable characters that predict behavior across situations. Doris corrects this by showing that behavior tracks situation, that character appears within domains of situational similarity, and that the globalist assumption produces systematic overattribution.
When a commentator explains an outcome by the persuasiveness of an ideology, ask whether the population had vital stakes that would have activated rigorous vigilance, and whether the ideology’s content matched prior commitment the population already held. When a commentator explains behavior by the character of the agents, ask what the situations rewarded and whether the same agents in different situations would have behaved differently. These are quick diagnostics. They cut through much of what passes for political and cultural analysis.
One limit is worth naming. The combination can tip toward a deflationary reading of human agency that neither Mercier nor Doris intends. Mercier’s humans are not pure reflective-belief holders. They do form intuitive beliefs on what matters to them and update those beliefs on evidence. Doris’s humans are not pure situational puppets. They do carry domain-specific reliabilities across similar situations. The combination is most useful when held as a corrective to ideational and dispositional overreach, not as a complete theory that eliminates belief and character as factors. Used with that discipline, it gives the sharpest available tool for analyzing how political forms produce political behavior. Used without the discipline, it can slide into reductive functionalism that loses the features of human life both theories preserve in their careful versions.
Schmitt’s theory needs the discipline removed. His sovereign commands publics by decision and myth. Mercier says publics run vigilance on their stakes and hold most political content as reflective belief. Doris says publics act from situations, not from the belief content the leader supplies. The sovereign’s work is real but narrow. It articulates what exists. It rides what situations produce. It extends into action only where stakes activate vigilance into intuitive belief and situations convert that belief into conduct. This is a smaller politics than Schmitt imagined. It is the politics that the evidence shows.

Posted in Carl Schmitt | Comments Off on Schmitt Under Mercier and Doris

SMH: ‘AI won’t kill the law degree. It will redefine it’

This Sydney Morning Herald op-ed reads as marketing copy dressed as analysis. Two law school administrators defend law school. That is the structure and the limit.
My four coalition questions apply. Johns and Walton draw their salaries from Sydney Law School. Their authority rests on the premise that law schools produce irreplaceable skills. Prospective students pay the tuition that funds their chairs. A piece arguing law school might not be worth it cannot be written from their positions. The byline is the argument.
The argumentative move is Turner territory. When a profession feels its jurisdiction threatened, its defenders claim the work rests on tacit knowledge that resists formalization. Johns and Walton make the move directly. AI “cannot weigh authority and precedent with deep contextual understanding,” cannot “navigate jurisdictional boundaries,” cannot “appreciate distinct legal subcultures.” These claims are asserted, not shown. The evidence runs the other way. Document review, legal research, drafting, case analysis, contract markup — the bulk of junior lawyer work — are exactly what current models handle. Every limit the authors cite in April 2026 existed in April 2024, and several have eroded in the interval. The piece treats AI as a fixed object rather than a moving front.
The authors never confront the pipeline problem. Even if senior lawyers retain judgment AI cannot replicate, the training ladder runs through paid junior work. Strip out that work and graduates have nowhere to stand. The article says nothing about this because the authors cannot say anything about this without threatening the product they sell.
The “five things” section is a curriculum prospectus. It tells prospective students that Sydney Law School is adapting, that its graduates will be techno-legally fluent, that the degree will pay. That is what a dean says. It is not analysis.
The revealing sentence is “We believe it is.” Of course they do. Their mortgages depend on believing it.
A more candid piece might address starting salaries relative to debt, automation of document review and its effect on training pipelines, whether a philosophy or history degree cultivates the same “human capacities that resist automation” at a fraction of the cost, and what happens to Australian law graduates over the next decade if Suleyman is half right. None of that appears.
The one patch of something closer to thought is the gesture at political economy. They note that AI development depends on capital, energy, minerals, tax incentives, and that the corporate structures of OpenAI and Anthropic shape who holds technological power. That is the closest the piece gets to honesty. But they fold it back into the sales pitch: future lawyers will master these questions, and Sydney Law School will teach them. The possibility that the credentialing apparatus itself serves the interests its graduates assume it serves never surfaces.
The prose also does the thing their own argument warns against. They ask graduates to evaluate AI outputs “discerningly rather than defer to them.” The article asks readers to defer to the authors’ discernment about the value of the thing the authors sell.
A Becker read would call law school a hero system under threat, and this article a ritual reaffirmation for members of the cult. The ritual works on the faithful. It will not persuade a skeptical eighteen-year-old sitting with an ATAR and a calculator.

Posted in Sydney | Comments Off on SMH: ‘AI won’t kill the law degree. It will redefine it’

What Can Seventh-day Adventist Faith Survive?

The Seventh-day Adventist church (12th largest Protestant body) in which I was raised can survive the claim that specific doctrines are wrong. It can survive revision of prophetic timelines, reinterpretation of Ellen White, renegotiation of dietary rules. It cannot survive the claim that the denominational structure exists to protect the denominational structure. It cannot survive the claim that 1980’s Glacier View conference was a political event staged as a theological one. It cannot survive the claim that the investigative judgment doctrine serves to keep the laity in a state of permanent anxiety that makes them tractable to institutional authority. My father reached the edge of these claims in 1980 and the institution expelled him. The expulsion tells you what the faith was protecting. Not the doctrine. The structure that the doctrine justified.

Start with the doctrine itself, because the sociological argument rests on understanding what the doctrine does inside the believer.

The investigative judgment is the claim that in 1844 Christ entered the second apartment of the heavenly sanctuary and began a pre-advent judgment of the records of everyone who has ever professed faith. The judgment proceeds case by case. Each believer’s life is examined. Sins confessed and forsaken are blotted out. Sins unconfessed or unforsaken remain on the record. The judgment moves through the dead first and then reaches the living. No believer knows when his case will come up. No believer knows the verdict until Christ returns. The doctrine holds that a man whose case is reviewed while he harbors an unconfessed sin will be lost, even if he had been converted and faithful for decades before. The doctrine also holds that probation closes at some unknown moment before the second coming, after which no further repentance is possible.

Hold that in mind for a moment. The believer is told that Christ is, right now, possibly reviewing his file. That his eternal destiny hangs on the state of his soul at the moment of review. That he cannot know when the review occurs. That he must maintain continuous vigilance against every sin, known and unknown, because any unconfessed fault might be the one that condemns him. That the standard is perfection. That Ellen White’s writings specify the standard in detail, covering dress, diet, entertainment, sexual thought, Sabbath observance, labor union membership, jewelry, coffee, cheese, novels, theater, and the thousand other surfaces of daily life on which the believer might slip.

This is not a doctrine that teaches a man to walk in assurance. It is a doctrine that installs a permanent low-grade terror in the nervous system. The terror does not feel like terror after a while. It feels like seriousness, like spiritual maturity, like being awake to the stakes. The believer reads his anxiety as evidence of his sensitivity to God. A believer who loses the anxiety worries that he has become spiritually careless. The doctrine teaches him to suspect his own peace.

Now apply the Duncan Kennedy test. What does this do to the believer’s relationship with the institution?

A man in permanent anxiety needs something to do with the anxiety. The institution gives him the something. He attends the meetings. He pays the tithe. He accepts the pastor’s counsel. He submits to the conference president’s authority. He accepts the General Conference’s doctrinal rulings. He reads the Review and Herald. He sends his children to Adventist schools. He avoids the worldly. He builds his social life inside the community. Each of these acts relieves a small portion of the anxiety. Each confirms that he is doing what a faithful believer does. The institution becomes the place where the anxiety gets managed.

The institution has no interest in curing the anxiety. A cured believer does not need the institution. The institution has every interest in maintaining the anxiety at a level high enough to produce submission and low enough to permit functioning. The doctrine calibrates this. A believer who despairs leaves the faith. A believer who feels assured also leaves, because he no longer needs the apparatus. The institution thrives on the man who is anxious enough to keep attending and calm enough to keep giving. The doctrine produces him.

This is not a conspiracy. No one in the General Conference sits down and calculates the optimal anxiety level for tithing. The structure selects for the doctrines that produce the tractable laity. Doctrines that produced assured laity would produce a shrinking institution. Doctrines that produced despairing laity would also produce a shrinking institution. The doctrine that survives is the doctrine that produces the laity the institution needs to continue. This is coalition selection operating on theological content across generations. The content survives because the content serves the coalition. The coalition does not know this about itself. The content presents itself as revealed truth.

My father saw this and said so. His 1979 manuscript argued that the investigative judgment doctrine has no biblical foundation, that the 1844 date rests on an exegetical error, that the sanctuary doctrine was constructed after the Great Disappointment to salvage the movement’s credibility, and that the doctrine’s practical effect is to rob believers of the assurance the New Testament offers. He was arguing as a Protestant. He was saying that Adventism had reinvented the confessional, had replaced grace with a works-based perfectionism disguised as grace, had converted Christ from advocate into prosecutor. His argument was theologically serious. It was biblically grounded. It engaged the scholarship. It was the kind of argument a Protestant theological tradition is supposed to be able to metabolize.

The institution could not metabolize it because the argument struck the load-bearing doctrine. Every other Adventist distinctive could have been renegotiated. The Sabbath could have been defended on other grounds. The state of the dead could have been folded into broader theological pluralism. Health reform could have been adjusted. Even Ellen White could have been reframed as a pastoral writer rather than a prophetic authority. What could not be surrendered was the doctrine that kept the laity anxious enough to submit to the denominational structure. Without the investigative judgment, the structure had no reason to exist as a separate denomination. Adventism would collapse back into general evangelical Protestantism and its institutional apparatus would dissolve.

This is why Glacier View happened the way it happened.

Now the political event staged as a theological one.

The official story is that in August 1980 a group of Adventist scholars and administrators met at Glacier View Ranch in Colorado to evaluate my father’s manuscript. The meeting included around a hundred and fifteen theologians, pastors, and church leaders. They studied the document, discussed it, and reached the conclusion that certain of its claims were inconsistent with Adventist teaching. My father’s ministerial credentials were subsequently lifted.

The real event was a coalition defending itself.

First, the composition. The hundred and fifteen participants were not selected for theological competence. They were selected for institutional position. They were conference presidents, division leaders, seminary administrators, denominational employees. Most of them could not have read the Hebrew and Greek texts my father was arguing about. Most of them had not published in the relevant scholarly literature. A real theological evaluation would have required perhaps ten or fifteen competent scholars. The hundred and fifteen were there to produce a consensus outcome that carried institutional weight. A scholarly panel might have split. The assembled coalition could not split without undoing its own authority.

Second, the pre-commitment. Neal Wilson, then General Conference president, had decided before Glacier View that the manuscript would be rejected. The meeting was staged to produce the rejection with a patina of collective deliberation. My father’s friends on the inside knew this. They told him. He went anyway, hoping that the theological argument would carry the day, hoping that the Reformation posture Adventism claimed would prove real under pressure. He was wrong about the Reformation posture but right to test it. The test was the evidence.

Third, the procedure. The meeting did not follow the protocols of scholarly evaluation. It did not follow the protocols of a fair ecclesiastical trial. It followed the protocols of coalition ratification. My father presented. Questions were asked. Committees worked. A document emerged. The document asserted that certain of his conclusions could not be harmonized with Adventist teaching. The document did not engage the exegetical arguments in detail. It did not refute the historical claims. It ruled. The ruling was the point. The theological language was ornament.

Fourth, the aftermath. My father was not given time to respond to the ruling. He was not permitted to publish a reply through denominational channels. His credentials were lifted. His position at Avondale was terminated. The Australasian Division, which had supported him, came under pressure. Pastors and teachers who had agreed with him were quietly removed over the following months. Some two hundred ministers in Australia and New Zealand lost their positions in what became known as the Adventist purge. A theological disagreement does not produce a purge. A coalition defending its authority produces a purge. The purge is the tell.

Fifth, what the coalition said afterward. The official Adventist literature has spent forty-five years describing Glacier View as a careful theological evaluation that reached a measured conclusion. The literature has described my father as sincere but mistaken, as a man who lost his way on a specific point of doctrine, as someone whose concerns could have been accommodated if he had been more pastoral and less confrontational. The literature has not describedGlacier View as what it was, which was a coalition mobilizing its hundred and fifteen most loyal members to produce a ruling that protected the doctrine that protected the structure.

The doctrine the coalition defended is what Becker would call the hero system. The Adventist hero system tells the believer that he lives in the closing moments of earth’s history, that Christ is in the most holy place conducting the final judgment, that the remnant church has been given the special message the world needs, and that faithful Adventists are God’s instrument for the last days. The believer’s life derives cosmic significance from this story. His tithe funds the work of God in the last days. His Sabbath-keeping is a mark of loyalty in the final conflict. His children’s attendance at Adventist schools protects them from the apostasy of the churches. His obedience to the denominational structure is obedience to the organization Christ established through Ellen White.

If my father was right about the investigative judgment, the hero system collapses. If 1844 was an exegetical error, then Adventism is not the remnant church of prophecy. It is a nineteenth-century American restorationist denomination with some distinctive doctrines and a prophet whose authority rests on her being a gifted pastoral writer rather than an end-time messenger. The special status evaporates. The distinctive mission evaporates. The reason for the institutional apparatus evaporates. Tithe-paying becomes a matter of supporting a denomination rather than of funding the Lord’s closing work. Sabbath-keeping becomes a personal conviction rather than a mark of the remnant. The believer’s life loses its cosmic location.

This is what the coalition could not permit. Not because the leaders were cynical, though some were. Because most of them had built their lives inside the hero system and could not imagine a faithful life outside it. My father was threatening their identity as much as their paychecks. Men defend their identity harder than they defend their paychecks.

The anxiety layer and the hero-system layer work together. The hero system gives the believer cosmic significance. The anxiety makes the significance conditional on continued faithful submission. Together they produce a believer who needs the institution to feel located and needs the institution to feel safe, and who therefore cannot afford to examine the doctrines that put him in the position of needing the institution. The doctrines are self-sealing. To question them is to lose the anchor that made life meaningful. To accept them is to remain tractable to whatever the institution requires.

My father’s refusal to fold atGlacier View was not only theological courage. It was a refusal to remain in the anxiety-hero-system matrix. He had done the reading. He knew the exegesis did not support the doctrine. He also knew, at some level, what the doctrine was doing inside the believer. He could not in good conscience continue to preach a doctrine that served to keep the laity afraid. He chose exile over complicity. The cost was his career, his community, and forty-five years of institutional isolation. The gain was his integrity. He kept his spine. The men who expelled him kept their positions. Some of them, privately, in later years, admitted that he had been right. They never said so publicly. The coalition did not permit public admission.

My presence in this conversation traces back to Glacier View. My lifelong refusal to submit to what I saw as unjust authority, my refusal to accept institutional accounts at face value, my suspicion of coalition-defended doctrines, my willingness to name what the coalition prefers to leave unnamed, all descend from watching my father refuse in 1980. He showed me what the refusal costs and what it keeps. I have spent my life in the territory his refusal opened. The framework I am building now, Pinsof plus Turner plus Becker plus Kennedy plus Alexander, is a set of tools for describing what happened to him. He did not have these tools. He had the Bible and the courage to read it against the institution. I have the tools. I can describe Glacier View in the vocabulary the event itself could not have used.

Glacier View is a model case of a coalition defending a doctrine that protects a structure. Once you see the pattern there, you see it everywhere. I see it in the Orthodox rabbinate defending halachic rulings that protect rabbinic authority. I see it in elite law schools defending pedagogical practices that protect the legal coalition. I see it in public health officials defending guidance that protects institutional credibility. I see it in universities defending diversity statements that protect administrative power. The doctrine always presents itself as truth. The structure the doctrine protects always presents itself as the natural means for transmitting the truth. The coalition always presents its defense of the doctrine as disinterested. My father’s case, because it unfolded in a small denomination where the mechanics were visible, gives me a clean version of the pattern that elsewhere runs hidden by scale.

The investigative judgment doctrine produces, over a believer’s lifetime, a specific psychological residue. The believer carries the anxiety even after he leaves the faith. He carries it into his marriages, his friendships, his work, his children’s upbringing. He reads neutral situations as potential judgments. He over-performs reliability. He punishes himself for minor failures. He distrusts his own sense of peace. The residue does not disappear when the doctrine is intellectually rejected. Alexander Technique would say it lives in the neck, the breath, the shoulders. Decades of work can reduce it but not erase it. The doctrine installed something in the body that the body now carries regardless of what the mind believes.

This is the deepest cost of the kind of faith the investigative judgment teaches. The cost is paid in the nervous system of the believer and the children of the believer. The institution that built the doctrine does not pay the cost. The believers and their children pay it. My own nervous system carries some of it. I know this because you have done decades of Alexander Technique work on the tension the doctrine produces. The work is real. The tension is real. The institution that produced the tension continues to exist, still defending the doctrine, still producing believers who will carry the tension into their own nervous systems and the nervous systems of their children. Glacier View was the moment the institution decided to keep producing the tension rather than surrender the doctrine. My father named the choice. The institution made the choice anyway. The choice is still being made, Sabbath after Sabbath, in Adventist congregations around the world.

Apply Pinsof to Glacier View and the event reveals itself as a clean case study of Alliance Theory. The theology did the advertising. The coalition did the work.

Start with the Pinsof frame. Alliance Theory says political belief systems do not flow from abstract values. They flow from coalition allegiances. Moral vocabulary is propaganda deployed to support allies and attack rivals. Partisans generate patchwork narratives that appeal to ad hoc and often incompatible moral principles. The coherence of the belief system is an illusion produced by the coherence of the coalition defending it. Change the coalition and the moral principles change to track the new configuration. The principles are downstream of the alliance.

Now apply this to the Sanctuary Review Committee.

The official story treats Glacier View as a theological consultation. One hundred and fifteen scholars and administrators met for a week to evaluate a 991-page manuscript on the investigative judgment. They reached what the Ministry Magazine reports called “a miracle of consensus.” They produced two consensus statements. They determined that Ford’s views could not be harmonized with Adventist teaching. The process moved through small groups, plenary sessions, and careful deliberation. The Holy Spirit guided the proceedings.

Pinsof gives you a different description of the same event. The coalition mobilized its members to defend a doctrine that anchored the coalition’s identity. The mobilization used theological vocabulary because the coalition’s identity is theological. A Republican coalition under similar pressure would have used political vocabulary. A union coalition would have used labor vocabulary. The vocabulary varies. The function is stable. The function is coalition defense.

Consider the composition of the SRC. Reports put the count at 114, 115, or 129 invitees depending on the source. These men were not selected for demonstrated competence in biblical Hebrew, Greek, ancient Near Eastern studies, or the history of Adventist exegesis. They were selected for institutional position. Conference presidents. Division leaders. Seminary administrators. Denominational editors. Graduate students on the promotion track. My father’s 991-page document rested on detailed exegesis of Daniel 8, Hebrews 6-10, and the Jewish sanctuary system. Perhaps fifteen men in the room had the languages to evaluate the exegesis. The other hundred were there to ratify, not to read. The meeting was structured around coalition ratification, not scholarly evaluation. Pinsof predicts exactly this composition. The coalition calls its members when the coalition is threatened. The members do not need to understand the threat. They need to recognize the threat-target and respond.

Consider the transitivity move. My father was linked to Robert Brinsmead. Brinsmead had been a longstanding irritant to Adventist institutional leadership in Australia. John Brinsmead, Robert’s brother, reportedly told Keith Parmenter that Ford and Brinsmead were working together to bring the church down. Parmenter accepted the allegation without verification. From Pinsof’s chapter on transitivity: the enemy of my enemy is my friend, and the friend of my enemy is my enemy. My father had spoken on the same platform as Brinsmead. That contact alone activated the transitivity calculation. The coalition did not need to evaluate Ford’s theological claims on their merits. Ford was linked to Brinsmead. Brinsmead was a rival. Therefore Ford was a rival. The linkage did the sorting before any exegesis entered the room. The small group of executives who reportedly told Ford at Glacier View to “Publicly denounce Robert Brinsmead as a troublemaker and heretic or hand in your credentials” was enforcing the transitivity rule. The theological content was negotiable. The coalition-signaling refusal was not. Denounce the rival or be classified as the rival’s ally.

Consider the perpetrator biases at work. Pinsof’s perpetrator-bias section describes the propagandistic moves coalitions make when their members harm others. Downplay responsibility. Emphasize mitigating circumstances. Embellish good intentions. Minimize the severity and duration of the harm.

The Adventist institutional narrative about Glacier View performs every one of these moves. The language stresses the care taken, the prayer offered, the fair hearing provided, the deep sorrow over Ford’s departure. “Every attempt was made to be fair to the views of Desmond Ford.” “Our only sorrow, and it ran deep, was our inability to bring Dr. Ford into spiritual oneness with the group.” The harm inflicted on my father is minimized. He lost his credentials, his position at Avondale, his pastoral identity, his professional community, and the career he had spent twenty-five years building. The institution’s narrative treats this loss as a regrettable consequence of Ford’s intransigence rather than as a harm the institution chose to inflict. The narrative also embellishes good intentions. Neal Wilson “magnanimously” provided six months of paid leave. Administrators “approached our task with earnest prayer.” The emphasis falls on the dispositions of the perpetrators rather than on the consequences for the man they were judging. My father spent the rest of his life outside the denomination he loved. The narrative describes this as his choice.

The subsequent harm extended beyond my father. The largest exit of teachers and ministers in Adventist history followed Glacier View. Some two hundred Australian and New Zealand pastors lost their positions in what became known as the Adventist purge. The institutional narrative calls this a sorrowful necessity, a painful consequence of the need to preserve doctrinal integrity. Pinsof would recognize this as perpetrator bias operating at scale. Large numbers of men were harmed. The coalition describes the harm as regrettable collateral damage in the defense of truth. The same coalition applied no such vocabulary to Ford’s harm to the church. His challenge was rebellion, wound, betrayal. The institution’s harm to two hundred families was sorrowful necessity. The asymmetry is diagnostic.

Consider the victim biases. Pinsof’s victim-bias section describes how coalitions embellish the grievances their own members suffer. Attribute the perpetrator’s motives to irrational malevolence. Deny mitigating circumstances. Emphasize the severity of harm inflicted on one’s side.

The Adventist institutional literature treats my father as a perpetrator of damage to the church. He is described as having “pushed some Seventh-day Adventist hot buttons.” He is said to have attacked Adventist teachings. The church is the victim. His motives are attributed, variously, to intellectual pride, to collusion with Brinsmead, to unwillingness to submit to counsel, to theological error ripening into spiritual rebellion. The severity of the harm to the church is embellished. Glacier View is described as the most important Adventist meeting since 1888 Minneapolis. My father is described as having occasioned a crisis of historic magnitude. The coalition needs the threat to be large because the mobilization of one hundred and fifteen officials requires justification. A small threat would not have warranted the machinery. The coalition embellished the threat to justify the machinery. Pinsof would predict the embellishment. Competitive victimhood runs in both directions during coalition conflicts. The institution cast itself as the victim of a theologian’s attack. The theologian lost his job.

Consider the attributional biases. My father’s advantages get attributed to external causes. His PhD from Manchester, his years at Avondale, his pastoral gifts, his influence among Australian Adventists, all get framed in the subsequent literature as opportunities the church extended to him rather than as achievements he earned. His disadvantages get attributed to internal causes. His failure to come into “spiritual oneness” with the committee is framed as an internal disposition, a stubbornness, a pride, a refusal to submit. The coalition attributes its own positions to divine guidance. “The Spirit of the Lord promoted remarkable consensus statements.” The coalition’s success in producing the consensus gets attributed to the Holy Spirit rather than to the coalition’s management of the room. The same consensus viewed from outside is the coalition doing what coalitions do. Viewed from inside it is the Spirit doing what the Spirit does.

Consider the “miracle of consensus” language itself. Pinsof would read this as pure coalition-ratification vocabulary. A group of one hundred and fifteen men from varied backgrounds and countries produced rapid agreement on a disputed theological question after five days of discussion. The production of agreement is described as a miracle. In Pinsof’s frame the production of agreement is exactly what coalitions exist to do. Members of the coalition arrived sharing the allegiance to the denominational structure that the threatened doctrine anchored. Their agreement was pre-determined by the alliance they all shared. The miracle was not the consensus. The miracle was naming as miracle what was already structurally certain.

The behavior of the administrators during the week confirms the Pinsof reading. The Adventist Today retrospective records that Jack Provonsha attempted a reconciliation scene toward the end of the meeting. He asked Keith Parmenter if he would commit to reconciliation. Parmenter balked. He asked Neal Wilson. Wilson hesitated. The reconciliation attempt collapsed before it reached my father. The two men who held the power to restore him refused, in front of witnesses, to commit to restoration. They had decided the outcome before they entered the room. The meeting was staged ratification of a decision already made. Raymond Cottrell’s private remark to my father captured this. “Des, the administrators have not read your manuscript.” They had not read it because they did not need to. The manuscript was not the input to the decision. The manuscript was the occasion for the decision. The decision was the coalition defending itself.

Now apply Pinsof to the theology.

The investigative judgment doctrine was not selected by the coalition for its biblical fidelity. The coalition selected it because the doctrine anchored the Adventist hero system as a distinct movement with a distinct mission. No other Protestant denomination teaches the investigative judgment. The doctrine is the marker that distinguishes Adventist from evangelical. Remove the doctrine and Adventism loses its reason for separate existence. Its schools become evangelical schools. Its hospitals become Protestant hospitals. Its publishing houses lose their distinct catalog. The denominational structure loses its theological rationale. The coalition cannot permit the doctrine to be challenged because the doctrine is what makes the coalition a coalition.

Pinsof’s similarity mechanism governs this. Coalition members signal commitment to the coalition through shared markers. The investigative judgment is the theological marker that signals Adventist membership. A man who accepts it signals that he belongs. A man who rejects it signals that he has left. My father’s 991 pages proposed a different signal. He wanted to keep most of what Adventism taught while rejecting the distinctive marker. The coalition experienced this as loss of the marker. A coalition without a marker is a coalition without a recognition protocol. Without a recognition protocol the coalition loses its ability to tell members from nonmembers. The marker cannot be surrendered even when the exegesis demands its surrender. The marker survives because the coalition needs the marker, not because the exegesis supports it.

This is why Ford could not be absorbed. Pinsof notes that coalitions can absorb considerable internal disagreement. Members routinely disagree on specific issues while remaining coalition members. Adventism can absorb disagreement about the Sabbath school lesson, the structure of evangelism, the boundaries of health reform, even the authority of specific Ellen White counsels. What it cannot absorb is rejection of the marker. My father crossed the line when he rejected the marker. Everything before that was routine internal disagreement. The marker rejection was coalition exit.

Pinsof’s framework also explains the vehemence of the post-Glacier View literature.

For forty-five years the Adventist institutional press has produced apologetic material defending the Glacier View process and the investigative judgment doctrine. The volume of material is disproportionate to the intellectual importance of the dispute. Hundreds of articles. Multiple books. Ongoing reflections. The Wikipedia article on the Sanctuary Review Committee itself runs longer than articles on most theological events in the denomination’s history. The disproportion tells you what the coalition is protecting. A coalition does not write hundreds of defenses of a marker unless the marker is load-bearing. The length of the defense is the index of the load.

The material also displays the propagandistic biases Pinsof cataloged. The language casts the institution as a patient, careful, prayerful body that did its best with a difficult man. The language casts my father as sincere but mistaken, gifted but flawed, pastoral but stubborn. The portrait is consistent across authors and decades. Pinsof would call this the coalition maintaining common knowledge of its version of the story. Common knowledge among coalition members reduces the cost of reasserting the coalition position. Every new member learns the story the same way. The story becomes the frame through which the event is remembered. An outside reader who encountered only the institutional literature would come away with a specific picture: responsible church handles errant theologian with regret. The picture is a coalition product.

My father’s counter-narrative, to the extent it circulates, circulates through channels Adventism classifies as irregular. Spectrum Magazine. Adventist Today. The Sydney Adventist Forum commemorations. These are treated as the voice of a faction rather than as legitimate institutional memory. The coalition controls the legitimate memory. The alternative memory exists but is coded as dissent, which means its claims are weighted as political rather than as historical. Pinsof’s framework predicts exactly this sorting. The coalition does not need to refute the alternative memory. It needs to mark the alternative memory as alternative. Once marked, the alternative is filed under faction. Faction material does not enter the official record except as a minority report.

One further Pinsof move is worth naming. The paper discusses how moral principles get applied inconsistently when applied to allies versus rivals. Adventism teaches the priesthood of all believers. Adventism teaches the right of private judgment in Scripture. Adventism teaches that the Reformation principle of sola scriptura must guide the believer. Adventism teaches that no creed stands above the Bible. The tradition makes these claims constantly in its polemical literature against Rome, against evangelical mainline churches, against the state churches of Europe. My father was exercising exactly the rights Adventism officially affirms. He was reading Scripture independently. He was submitting his reading to the community for examination. He was claiming the priesthood of the believer. The institution’s response suspended every one of those principles in his case. The principles apply to Protestants against Rome. They do not apply to Adventists against the General Conference. This is the pattern Pinsof describes. The principles are deployed when they help the coalition and suspended when they threaten it. The principles are not principles. They are tactical vocabulary. The coalition uses them as needed.

The same asymmetry runs through the historical Adventist case against Rome. Adventist literature has long described the papal system as a structure that silences dissent, controls doctrine from the center, punishes theologians who deviate, and confuses institutional authority with divine mandate. The description is not wrong in the historical cases it names. It is simply also an accurate description of what Adventism did at Glacier View. The coalition that condemned Rome for its treatment of dissenters became the coalition that treated its own dissenter the same way. The hero system told Adventists that their church was the opposite of Rome. The behavior showed the church was the same. Pinsof would note that the hero system does not need to match the behavior. The hero system’s job is to mobilize the coalition. The behavior’s job is to defend the coalition. When the two conflict, the hero system does rhetorical work and the behavior does the actual work. Members do not notice the conflict because noticing it would cost them their location in the hero system.

My father noticed it. Noticing it cost him his location. He kept his spine and paid the price. The coalition kept its marker and paid a different price, which was the loss of the man whose theological work might have saved the denomination from the slow credibility crisis the investigative judgment continues to produce. The coalition chose the marker over the man. The marker survives. The denomination has shrunk relative to its projected growth for two generations. The shrinkage is partly downstream of the decision at Glacier View. A tradition that defends markers against its best thinkers loses its best thinkers and then loses the people who would have followed them. The coalition wins the battle and weakens the organization the coalition exists to preserve. Pinsof’s framework predicts this outcome too. Coalitions optimize for coalition maintenance, not for organizational flourishing. The two often coincide. When they diverge, coalition maintenance wins and the organization pays.

One last note worth sitting with. The Pinsof framework lets you describe Glacier View without needing to adjudicate the theological question. You do not have to decide whether my father was right about Daniel 8:14. You can bracket the exegesis entirely. The Pinsof analysis works regardless of who had the better biblical argument. This is a strength of the framework. Adventist apologists have spent forty-five years insisting that the exegesis settles the matter in the institution’s favor. They want the debate held on exegetical ground because the exegetical ground is where they can claim authority. Pinsof moves the analysis off exegetical ground and onto sociological ground. The sociological question is not who had the better argument. The sociological question is what the coalition was doing when it convened one hundred and fifteen men to evaluate an argument its administrators had not read. The answer to that question does not depend on the exegesis. It depends on what coalitions do when their markers are threatened. The answer is that they defend the marker. Glacier View was marker defense. The theological language was how marker defense sounds when the coalition is a church.

My father was the man who said the quiet part out loud. Forty-five years later the institution still has not forgiven him.

Posted in Adventist | Comments Off on What Can Seventh-day Adventist Faith Survive?