Congratulations to the Royal Irish Academy, the editors, and all involved here at the Press.

Americans don’t like “big government” right? Not exactly. In the Early Republic (1789 to the 1820s) folks were quite keen on building up the (you guessed it) republic. As in res publica, the “things held in common.” The “founding fathers” – all “Classical Republicans” – designed a form of government that, though “checked and balanced,” gave the federal government significant powers. And throughout the 19th-century Americans asked the federal government to use those powers to do all kinds of things, many of them profoundly self-interested.

But as Brian Balogh points out in his thought-provoking new book A Government Out of Sight: The Mystery of National Authority in 19th-Century America they–that is, the American people–preferred that the federal government render aid in a certain way, namely, unobtrusively. Americans wanted the fed to help, but they didn’t want to see any feds. This created a system of “associative” government: the fed collected money (or incurred debt) and then distributed it to cities, counties, and states to get what it–and they–wanted done.

Keep reading at New Books in History >>

In this cleverly constructed book, several of the puzzles of present-day neurology are considered alongside accounts of the lives and times of those with whom they are eponymously associated. Parkinson’s disease, Alzheimer’s disease, and Korsakoff’s, Tourette’s and Asperger’s syndromes feature among the better-known instances, but lesser-known syndromes such as the those of Clerambault and Capgras (perhaps more psychiatric than neurological) are also considered. Each receives a chapter to itself.

The author’s particular skill is in making his subject matter interesting at several levels and to different groups of readers. His accounts of the successes and sorrows of those who are seen (not always accurately, as he points out) as the discoverers of these well-known diseases are historically vivid without resorting to hagiography; and the story of the fortunes of their brain-children as they negotiate the fluctuations of medical and social fashion since their conception is absorbing.

The reader need not be a professional medic or psychologist to appreciate these accounts, but nor will the relevant professionals be bored or disappointed by them: Douwe Draaisma’s research is thorough and his treatment of the issues penetrating as well as clear. He has a rare talent for writing informatively and entertainingly without losing depth.However, this is not just a historical account, and Draaisma does not merely record events. One of the more fascinating aspects of the book is the clarity with which it demonstrates that what were (in the main) neurological puzzles in the past remain neurological puzzles today. We are no clearer now about the significance of the tics and compulsive imprecations shown by his patients than was Gilles de la Tourette when he first described them more than a century ago; controversy over the origins of “childhood autism” is no more resolved than it was in Hans Asperger’s and Leo Kanner’s heyday; the sombre tale of Alzheimer’s disease highlights the frustrating lack of progress in understanding the processes involved, let alone treating them successfully. The advance, if one can call it such, of medical science is a halting and uncertain affair…

Keep reading at the Times Higher Education >>

Michael Ruse

Health-care reform is set to become my King Charles’s Head. I am going to find it difficult to write anything without it coming up in the middle. Fifty-seven million people in the United States of America without healthcare insurance and we — at least those blocking reform — call ourselves a Christian nation. Shame, shame, shame. But, spurred by a well-merited criticism of my last blog, I want to write about something else that has been on my mind and which I intended to raise at some point. So why not now?

I have in my possession a school report from when I was about 10 years old. My mother was a schoolteacher and we took school reports very seriously in my family. They were not glanced at, signed, and then forgotten. They were returned, stored safely, and discussed on pertinent occasions in the future. The report, said he modestly, is pretty good. “Sports” is a bit off, but generally I was nicely on track. However, then we come to “Spelling.”  “B, Michael is improving.” Well, there was room for improvement and I am afraid it did not go far. As my perceptive critic noted, I simply cannot spell. On this occasion, I got “miniscule” for “minuscule,” but this is nothing. Some words I just blank out on. The other day, I could not for the life of me spell “cloathes,” you know those things you put on. I can never spell “campaing,” the thing that was the end of Napoleon in Russia.  And you may ride in an automobile, but I ride in a “vehcule.” And when it comes to, well you know what it is when you have had too many prunes and it begins with a d, I cannot get close enough to look it up in a dictionary.

I don’t know why it is. There are some words I have the hang of. I know how to spell “parallel.” And “embarrassment” is never self predicating. But in general, I am a mess. I think I usually know when I have something wrong, but as miniscule shows not always. And I doubt now that I have lived and misspelt for seven decades that things are going to change much.

Do understand, I am not writing this post in a welter of self pity. Don’t write comments of sympathy — or scorn for that matter. I live with my bad spelling and by and large it does not bother me.  Although there was a nasty moment when I did my test for citizenship and the chap asked me to write: “Abraham Lincoln was president during the Civil War.” I kid you not, I did not know whether to write “Lincoln” or “Lincone.” (Mark you, I was so damn nervous, I could not remember my address.  The poor officer asked, in bewilderment: If you and Lizzie are married, why do you live in different houses?)

Continue reading at Brainstorm >>

Michael Ruse’s Science and Spirituality will be available this Spring.

Interview

Manuela Costantino (MC): Why did Cambridge University Press decide to publish this book?

Sarah Stanton (SS): Cambridge decided to commission a History of Canadian Literature within its programme of Cambridge Histories (multi-author reference works) because we recognized that there was a clear library and institutional market for such a history, within Canada, but even more so within the USA (our largest single market for academic books of this kind) and Europe. That recognition was based on the self-evident distinction of Canadian writing, on the number of degree courses on the topic, and on the success of our recently published Cambridge Companion to Canadian Literature, a very different book (in level and extent) but tackling essentially the same subject area in abbreviated and student-friendly form. Is it appropriate to add that I myself am a keen reader of Canadian fiction? That of course should be no part of a tough-minded commercial decision to go ahead, but it added impetus to the decision-making process!

MC: Why did Cambridge University Press approach Coral Ann Howells and Eva-Marie Kröller to edit this volume?

SS: Each is expert in the field, with somewhat different specialties—a good thing. Each had been highly efficient and successful volume editor of a previous Companion, Kröller on Canadian Literature and Howells on Margaret Atwood. They knew each other and thought they could work well together. They also represent different constituencies, Canada and the UK, and therefore markets, so would be likely to commission a wide range of contributors, which would appeal to readers globally. They are also lovely people to work with, with a keen sense of timetable and well connected within the field, therefore likely to attract the best authors and, eventually, reviewers.

MC: How did the fact that you are international and multilingual scholars affect your editing of the book?

Eva-Marie Kröller (EMK): As Sarah Stanton has already pointed out, we teach at British and Canadian universities respectively and so bring these two different perspectives into the picture. As well, we maintain strong professional and personal connections with our countries of origin, Australia and Germany, and were able to draw on a large network of international scholars of Canadian and Commonwealth literature. Finally, we are both francophiles, and one particularly enjoyable part of the collaboration was the ability to ruminate with a knowledgeable partner about the elusive meaning of a caption in Old French, for example.

Coral Ann Howells (CAH): I think our own international backgrounds as teachers and conference goers over many years have served us well as editors, because we have both gained a good working knowledge of who is doing what in Canadian and postcolonial studies. For a book like this dealing with such a mass of materials, we needed to be able to identify scholars with certain areas of expertise, and to find comparativists who are familiar with both anglophone and francophone literatures—something we have been able to do. We have contributors from Canada and the USA, also from Britain (both of whom are Australians), France, Germany, and Spain. To end on a trans-Canadian note, I might add that the chapter on fiction in French was written by two francophone scholars from Quebec, who teach at UBC, and the chapter on poetry in French by a scholar from Franco-Ontario, who teaches at the University of Ottawa.

MC: Did the fact that you are women play an important role in the editing of the volume?

CAH: Yes.

Continue reading at Canadian Literature >>

We think of René Descartes as a French philosopher given that he was born in La Haye, France. Descartes, however, felt most at home among the Dutch.

In 1618 he joined the army of the Dutch commander, Maurice of Nassau and even long after leaving the military, he chose to reside in the United Provinces of the Netherlands. His return to France in 1620 ended in 1623 with a pilgrimage to Italy, which Descartes undertook as thanks for a series of dreams (he interpreted these as divine revelations of his future path as a philosopher). Descartes returned to France again in 1623 but finally left for good in 1628. Frustrated with the social obligations that life in Paris imposed on him, Descartes took refuge in the Dutch Republic whose people he praised for not prying into his business.

His first stop in the Netherlands was the University of Franeker, in the Northernmost province of Friesland. Descartes was, at this time, engaged in mathematical sciences, such as optics and astronomy, and aimed to gather observational data concerning parhelia and other astronomical phenomena. Believing Adrianus Metius, Professor of Mathematics at the University, to be related to the Metius who had invented the telescope Descartes hoped that, with his assistance, he would make progress in his astronomical observations. When this turned out to be a case of mistaken identity, Descartes tried to entice the French lens grinder, Jean Ferrier, to join him in Franeker, even promising him a cook who could prepare French food!

When this plan failed, Descartes moved to Leiden, registering as a student at the University of Leiden on June 26, 1630 (probably, in order to be able to use its library). He was, in all likelihood, attracted to Leiden because Jacob Golius, Professor of Mathematics at the University had just discovered an Arabic manuscript containing the lost books of Apollonius of Perga’s Conics. Golius became a lifelong friend, even defending Descartes against accusations that he had stolen the law of refraction from Willebrord Snel rather than discovering it independently. In 1640, Descartes resided in a house located opposite Golius’ on the Prinsengracht, and in 1641, 1643 and 1649 he lived in Castle Endegeest just outside of Leiden (both buildings are still there – the Castle is now a psychiatric institution).

Henricus Reneri, another close Dutch friend of Descartes’, taught Natural Philosophy (which back then included physics) in Deventer. Between 1631 and 1633 Descartes moved back and forth between Amsterdam and Deventer, and in 1635 he followed Reneri to his new teaching post in Utrecht. At this time, Descartes was working on a treatise (published posthumously under the title Treatise on Light or The World) that laid out his cosmology and physics. Constantijn Huygens urged him to publish it, but Descartes abandoned this plan upon hearing of the Inquisition’s condemnation of Galileo Galilei. Both Huygens and Reneri continued to pressure Descartes to publish the fruits of his new scientific method. Huygens suggested that he publish his Dioptrics and Reneri, who needed a teaching text for his courses in natural philosophy, requested that he publish his Meteorology. In 1637 Descartes published both scientific essays and hastily added a Preface plus his newly completed Geometry. This hodge-podge of his scientific writings was published under the title Discourse on the Method.

Descartes’ relations with the Dutch began to sour when his follower, and Professor of Medicine and Botany at the University of Utrecht, Henricus Regius, held a public disputation in 1641 in which he defended the controversial thesis that the human mind and human body formed an accidental not a substantial union.  In his book Descartes and the Dutch, Theo Verbeek reports that, probably in an effort to protect Descartes from legal charges by the conservative Calvinist rector of the university, Gijsbert Voetius, Regius claimed to take his thesis from the deceased Dutch atomist philosopher, David Gorlaeus rather than from Descartes. Unfortunately, this only served to fan the flames of Voetius’ wrath as Gorlaeus had been an Arminian sympathizer when the more liberal Arminians clashed with orthodox Calvinists during Voetius’ days as a theology student in Leiden.  Voetius could now link Descartes’ teachings with the Socinian heresy via a spurious association with Gorlaeus.  Hence Cartesianism came to be associated with heresies that threatened not just the standard Aristotelian philosophy taught at university during this time, but with the entire religio-socio-politcal order of the young Dutch Republic.

The ensuing legal and intellectual battles were probably a factor in Descartes’s decision to leave the Netherlands for a post at the court of Queen Christina of Sweden in 1649.  Unfortunately, he died shortly thereafter on February 11, 1650 in Stockholm.  Descartes’ corpse then made a long journey back to Paris – but this is a story for another time.

Helen Hattab is author of Descartes on Forms and Mechanisms.

Note: Yes, I realize that the front-page image is of Descartes in Sweden. -ed

Listen >>

Even though no one should have been surprised by the outcome of last month’s global climate summit in Copenhagen, the lack of any meaningful action unleashed a torrent of angry and disappointed rhetoric. “The outcome of Copenhagen doesn’t at all match the needs . . . of mankind,” complained Sweden’s environment minister. “By delaying action, rich countries have condemned millions of the world’s poorest people to hunger, suffering and loss of life,” added Nnimmo Bassey, chair of Friends of the Earth International. And those were some of the milder comments.

Critics, however, should calm down. If anything, the summiteers did the planet a favor by refusing to endorse a binding agreement to drastically reduce carbon emissions. That’s because their inability to make progress may be the nudge the international community needs to face the real inconvenient truth: that after nearly two decades of fruitless efforts, it’s time to give up our Rio-Kyoto-Copenhagen fantasy and get real about combating global warming.

Two points underlie the issue of global warming: First, developing nations have no intention of letting the developed world force them to stop using carbon-emitting fuels. They are understandably wary of any policy that might curtail the domestic economic growth that is allowing their populations to clamber out of poverty. And that is precisely what drastically reducing their carbon emissions would do.

Keep reading at The Washington Post >>