the oculus: 2011 spring

Dear UVa Community, It is with enormous pleasure that we present to you the Spring 2011 edition of The Oculus, the University of Virginia’s multidisciplinary undergraduate research journal. This semes-ter we received a record number of submissions – in everything from government and psy-chology to chemistry and philosophy – and were thoroughly impressed with the maturity and caliber of undergraduate researchers here at UVa.

Our editorial board, composed entirely of undergraduates from a range of disciplines, care-fully reviewed the submissions. Over the course of eight weeks, our editors discussed and evaluated each submission in terms of novelty, originality, and writing quality, ultimately selecting six excellent papers from a pool of nearly 70. This has been our most competitive semester, and we heartily congratulate the selected authors for their commendable research.

The Oculus could not have been possible without the efforts of a large number of people. We would first and foremost like to thank our editors, who dedicate several hours each week out of their busy schedules towards the journal. Additionally, we greatly appreciate the extra time and efforts that our new layout editors and cover designer have put into creating an aesthetically rewarding issue of the journal. Also, a special thanks to our sponsors at the Center for Undergraduate Excellence for another year of support, advice, and insight. Fi-nally, we would like to thank our authors, their faculty advisers, as well as you, the reader.

We hope that you enjoy reading about the phenomenal work presented in this issue, and that this journal inspires you to actively engage and participate in UVa’s scholarly com-munity.

Best,

Jessleen Kanwal David WuCo-editor-in-Chief Co-editor-in-Chief

Editors’ Note

Guest Letter

Dear Oculus authors,

Congratulations on having your research published in The Oculus, the University of Virgin-ia’s journal of undergraduate research! The Oculus has a long history of presenting excellent student work, working with the Undergraduate Research Network to promote a vibrant research culture among U.Va.’s undergraduates. Publishing your research serves as a fitting culmination of months, even years, of hard work in the archives, the library, the laboratory, the studio, or the field. But publication isn’t the end: sharing your work with others can and should lead to comments and questions about your methods, conclusions, and next steps. Successful research provokes response, response provokes evolution of your ideas; the discussion that ensues is a vital aspect of all research and your education. Welcome to the ongoing conversation!

Now that you have completed your research and hold a copy of this journal in your hand, I have a request of you. This is your chance to tell other students, especially younger stu-dents, about how you benefited and learned from your research experience. Share with them the challenge and thrill of defining a research question and then figuring out how to answer it. Convey to them the excitement of discovery—even if the going is slow at times. Advise them on how to get involved in research and on how to find a faculty research men-tor.

Speaking of research mentors, this is also the perfect time for you to write your mentors a thank you note. Let them know how much their guidance means to you. And as the years pass, stay in touch. They will want to know where you go and what you do—and, in many cases, where your research has led you.

I wish you the very best.

Milton AdamsProfessor, Biomedical EngineeringVice Provost for Academic Programs

The OculusThe Virginia Journal of Undergraduate Research

Volume 10, Issue 1

CoNtENts

Around the University: Professors and their students 1Professor tyler Jo smith and Katherine BeckerJessleen Kanwal

the Righteous Mind of the Irrational Voter: Why Good People Choose 3 Bad Policies Christian Galgano

Money and Media in Modern London: A Comparative Analysis of the 15 Business Models of The London Evening Standard and The TimesCaroline Newman

the Role of Grace and shame in Postwar Japanese Attitudes and 22 Historical BlameSimon Svirnovskiy

the Myth of the Reasonable Man: A Critique of the Postulate of Man 29 as Reasonable, and the Legal Fiction of Rationality that saturates our Justice systemNicole Brown

Holocaust as Aberration: How oral Histories Particularize the Holocaust 46Carrie Filipetti

Cerebral RNA Expression Variation between Inbred Mouse strains 61 Resistant and susceptible to Cerebral Ischemia: testing Novel Human CandidatesSean Li

A No-Nonsense Guide to Getting Involved in Research 66Jessleen Kanwal

submission Guidelines 67

The Oculus is published by the Undergraduate Research Network (URN) in conjunction with the Center for Undergraduate Excellence (CUE). All copyrights are retained by the authors; URN holds the rights to non-exclusive use in print and electronic formats for all pieces submitted for publication in The Oculus. The views expressed in this publication

are those of the authors and do not constitute the opinion of The Oculus.

Co-Editors-in-ChiefJessleen Kanwal and David Wu

Editoral StaffTim Allan, Upasana Bhattacharya, Kirsti Campbell, Michelle Choi,

Marina Freckmann, Leah Kim, Steve Kim, Mitchell Leibowitz, Suraj Mishra, Shaun Moshasha, Shruti Patel, Sharon Rogart, Janet Shin, Sarah Smith, Jason Ya

Layout EditorsMarina Freckmann, Suraj Mishra, and Jason Ya

PhotographersMichelle Choi and Steve Kim

Cover DesignerSteve Kim

Editorial Board

Spring 2011: Volume 10, Issue 1 1

Professor Tyler Jo Smith and Katherine Becker

around thE univErsity: ProfEssors and thEir studEnts

What first comes to mind when a fellow U.Va. undergraduate tells you he/she is doing re-

search? Is it the stereotypical scientist dressed in a white coat while conducting experiments in a lab, or perhaps the studious bookworm who spends days in the library engulfed by endless stacks of novels? How about a passionate scholar analyzing various forms of ancient art in a country half way around the world? This is the unique path Katherine Becker, a fourth year Art History major and Biology minor, de-cided to take as she pursued her undergraduate re-search interests. Katherine, who is an accomplished Echols scholar, Raven Fellowship Finalist, and Harri-son Award recipient, decided to embark on an expe-dition to Greece in an effort to better understand how the ancient people of this civilization perceived the forger god Hephaestus, the only physically imperfect god in their religion. Instrumental to Katherine’s aca-demic trajectory and intellectual growth as an under-graduate has been her mentor and friend, Professor Tyler Jo Smith. A recipient of the Award of Excellence in College Teaching, Professor Smith is a classical ar-cheologist who specializes in Greek vase-painting and iconography. Together, this student-mentor pair spent three months during the summer in Greece, traveling from one museum to another, visiting sev-eral conservation labs and ancient art sites, as well as various medical sanctuaries, in order to come to

conclusions about the impact Hephaestus’s depiction had on Ancient Greek perception of disabled citizens. Nearly one year after their amazing experience, we (members of The Oculus) had the opportunity to sit down with Professor Smith and Katherine and find out how exactly their journey began, specifically what brought them together and what advice they have for other undergraduates interested in partici-pating in research.

As an incoming first year, Katherine was pre-med with the prospect of majoring in biology, but a class in Greek art soon led her down a new and unantici-pated path. Through the art course, Katherine dis-covered an unknown interest that was quickly culti-vated by her numerous interactions and one-on-one discussions with Professor Smith, also Katherine’s academic advisor. So, how does an undergraduate make the jump from those brief student-professor exchanges to ones of close camaraderie as well as stimulating intellectual dialogue? Katherine found that regularly attending a professor’s office hours is quite effective because it is a great time for students to express their interests, share ideas, and ask ques-tions to a professor. Professor Smith too identifies the importance of office hours for students, stressing that no matter how large a class, by attending office hours students can “cultivate relationships with their professors... I am looking for students who show that interest very early on in their career at U.Va. because as with any research, the longer you work on it, the better the final product is going to be.” Additionally, she expresses her enthusiasm for meeting with stu-dents saying, “I always tell students the first day or two of class, ‘Come to my office hours, I get lonely, please come and visit me’… Tell me about yourself and what you are interested in.” Such excitement is shared by many professors across the university, who are eager to interact with undergraduates and help them succeed. Further, Katherine describes another benefit to making the effort to meet with professors and advisors at an early stage, “Professor Smith has had a chance to read my writing consistently for the past three years, and writing is a huge element of a thesis. A lot of the issues I may have come to her with during my second year, she fixed within that year.”

The question still remains, how did this pair go from discussing a research question in the confines of a U.Va. professor’s office to roaming Greece with the tools and mission to solve the puzzle of Hepha-estus’s influence on ancient Greek society? The short answer is that a combination of Katherine’s passion and desire to conduct research abroad with Profes-sor Smith’s extensive knowledge and network in the field made a summer in Greece the perfect solution. Professor Smith commented that from the perspec-

The Oculus: The Virginia Journal of Undergraduate Research2

tive of a mentor, “to be abroad with the student is taking it to another level. That is the dream…” She went on to explain that not only did it allow Kath-erine to place her research in context, “but it also strengthened our relationship… [researching abroad is] a shared experience outside of U.Va. and outside of the classroom and one you cannot replace.”

So, what advice do these two have to offer to undergraduates interested in getting involved in re-search and building a strong relationship with their mentors? Katherine suggests that the first step is to “think of a general subject you are interested in and then talk to your advisor or a person who re-ally knows their field.” From her experiences, she has found that conducting research is a very holis-tic process. “You have to do such a broad array of readings,” which Katherine explains allowed her to get “a more thorough understanding of the culture, the history, society, and politics.” At the same time, doing research entails learning how to ask intellectu-ally stimulating questions and determining the meth-ods by which you can answer such questions. Often Katherine would develop her own techniques and methods for quantifying the large amounts of data she collected while in Greece.

Unlike the classroom, which provides tools and perspective, research presents an opportunity to ac-tively use those tools and engage in the development of new knowledge. Both agree that an amalgam of conducting research and learning in class make for a much more enriching educational experience. Pro-fessor Smith explains, “I tell my students that I am going to give you the skills that we use, teach you the tricks we use to date these things [archeological find-ings], identify them, and reassemble them in 3-D. It is not just about images and pictures and stories and myths – that is just part of it. Students are also taught to think of these things holistically.”

Research, however, does come with challenges, and for Katherine one that was constantly on her mind was funding. Nonetheless, Katherine took a very proactive approach in her search for money to help support her research in Greece. “Any single grant that we heard of I applied for- whether it was $500 or $3000! And we had a thorough proposal for our trip to Greece. It wasn’t just let’s go explore Greece. Rather it was about visiting specific sites and talking to specific people,” says Katherine. In over-coming such obstacles, she suggests it is important to be structured, strategic, and specific when apply-ing for funding. Katherine’s head-first attitude was rewarded with her receipt of the Harrison Award, which was instrumental in allowing her to pursue a summer abroad in Greece.

Having juggled regular school work and research, Kate attests that the rewards far exceed the struggles. “It is just a sense of triumph to know that you your-self are capable of doing both,” she says. “When I first set out, 50 pages sounded like such a hurdle,

but to know that you are capable of writing in a way that is organized, in a way that you can communicate your thoughts on a subject and that is completely in-dependent… I feel like that is the best way to leave an institution where I spent four years – to show a culmination of how I’ve learned to write, think, and analyze the studies that I’ve chosen and to be able to put all of that together into this one project that spans longer than a semester.” Professor Smith adds that “research can come in many forms and it doesn’t mean writing a DMP [distinguished majors program thesis]…There are abundant opportunities for re-search and it is a matter of students matching them-selves with professors who are interested.”

There are obvious benefits to being involved in research, but more than that, there is great pride and appreciation for participating in the production of knowledge itself, witnessing paradigm shifts, and realizing what you are truly capable of. As Aristotle once said, “for the things we have to learn before we can do them, we learn by doing them.”

Thanks to Upasana Bhattacharya for her contributions to the interview


Are voters rational? Is the U.s. government? In this paper, I present what I believe is the most accurate theoretical model of voter motivation in American democracy: the Haidt-Ca-plan model. I first synthesize the ideas of public choice economist Bryan Caplan and social psychologist Jonathan Haidt to show that the winner of an American election is the can-didate who offers the most expressive value to the median voter’s moral matrix. then, I ar-gue that a Haidt-Caplan model of voter motivation would behaviorally explain why voters are “rationally irrational,” why democracy systematically produces ineffective policy, why Americans vote for their perception of the public interest, and why democracy naturally fa-cilitates strong partisanship. Remarkably, a Haidt-Caplan model yields suggestive, mod-ern-day evidence of multi-level selection in human evolution. I follow with a discussion of reform principles and policies that may bring about more effective governance by limiting the effects of systematic bias via market mechanisms and constitutional reform. Ultimately, I conclude that understanding the dimensions of instrumental and expressive value through behavioral political economy is the key to understanding aggregate-level human activity.

Christian West Galgano is a fourth-year from Rye, New York majoring in Psychology and Economics. In the Fall of 2010, he wrote his paper for Professor Jonathan Haidt’s seminar, The Psychology of Morality and Politics. Since the fall, he has developed his paper after receiving gracious and insightful feedback from Professor Haidt; Bryan Caplan, Professor of Economics; Larry Sabato, Professor of Politics; and Kyle Davis and Molly Holmes, his two bright friends and fellow U.Va. undergraduates. Next year, Christian plans to write a book on his ideas while conducting research on behavioral political economy. Afterwards, he hopes to become a social psychologist interested in the intersection of the social sciences.

thE rightEous Mind of thE irrational votEr:Why good PEoPlE ChoosE Bad PoliCiEs

Christian Galgano


jective political ignorance. Instead, we vote for the candidates who intuitively register with our moral-ity. Perhaps the most significant idea is our morality does not vote selfishly; it votes for its perception of the public interest. Once we reach moral judgment, the issues do become black and white, and others do take stances with us or against us. This voting behav-ior causes significantly ineffective resource allocation (like “economic suicide”), and we backlash at candi-dates who sin against our morality in the process.

In this paper on behavioral political economy, I will argue that Jonathan Haidt’s social intuitionist model of moral judgment and his Moral Founda-tions Theory of human morality provide the missing behavioral narrative that completes Bryan Caplan’s public choice explanation of American voting be-havior, democratic output, political partisanship, and possible reform. I will first synthesize the ideas of public choice economist Bryan Caplan and social psychologist Jonathan Haidt to show that the winner of an American election is the candidate who offers the most expressive value to the median voter’s mor-al matrix. I will then describe how a Haidt-Caplan1 model of voter motivation would explain why de-mocracy systematically produces ineffective policy, why Americans are group-interested ideological vot-ers, and why democracy naturally facilitates strong partisanship. Remarkably, a Haidt-Caplan model of voter motivation also lends suggestive, modern-day evidence for the social functionalist argument of multi-level selection in human evolution. To con-clude my analysis, I discuss general reform principles and specific measures that may induce more effective governance by limiting the effects of systematic bias through market mechanisms and constitutional re-form.

Inspired by revolutionary findings from behav-ioral economics, behavioral political economy inte-grates psychology with political economy to uncover more accurate explanations of aggregate human ac-tivity. The leading public choice theory of democracy comes from one of behavioral political economy’s pi-oneers, Bryan Caplan. In what economist Tyler Cow-en, calls, “one of the two or three best books on public choice in the last twenty years,” Bryan Caplan (2007) presents a model of “rationally irrational” voter mo-tivation and exposes the ramifications it holds for democracy. His book, The Myth of the Rational Voter: Why Democracies Choose Bad Policies, shows how the Median Voter Theorem with rationally irrational ac-tors effectively models American electoral outcomes and would explain why democracies choose bad policies.

In 1957, Anthony Downs spawned the classical school of public choice economics with the concept

1 I say Haidt-Caplan in lieu of Caplan-Haidt because I think it sounds more active, but that’s just me.

In 2004, Thomas Frank released two titles. In the US, he released What’s the Matter with Kansas?

How Conservatives Won the Heart of America, where it became a New York Times bestseller. In the United Kingdom and Australia, however, Frank sold for-eigners the same basic content with a ploy: their book was titled, What’s the Matter with America?

In both versions, Thomas Frank investigates how the Republican Party fundamentally transformed a blue state of left-wing populists into a GOP base of moderate and far right conservatives. A native of Kansas himself, Frank explores “what’s the matter?” with his fellow Mods and Cons who vote for fam-ily values, but continually elect “[Republican] lead-ers [who] talk Christ, [but] walk corporate” (6). He presents a puzzling picture of displaced farmers and workers like Tim Golba who give up their “ag” sub-sidies, industry protections and government benefits in exchange for their party’s laissez-faire economics. When these conservatives “backlash” at unhappy outcomes, they blame the liberal elite for the sins of the world, and, “Kansas screams for their heads!” (249).

What’s going on here? In my view, the most pow-erful insight comes from Frank’s exchange with Tim Golba, but not from Frank himself. With the self-de-scribed “little old blue-collar worker,” Frank reports:

The other team also fails because what principles they do have don’t resonate for voters. Sam Brownback says Kansans don’t care about eco-nomic issues, that they’re all on fire for culture war, and Tim Golba seems to agree. “You can’t stir the general public up to get out the work for a candidate on taxes or the economy. People to-day are busy... But you can get people who are concerned about the moral decline in our nation. Upset enough to where you can motivate them on the abortion issue, those types of things.” In his absolute dedication to principle Golba per-sonifies one of backlash conservatism’s greatest strengths. Ignoring one’s economic self-interest may seem like a suicidal move to you and me… [but here’s a man] who has transcended the ma-terial…He defies the men in the great palaces. He smites their candidates; he wastes their mon-ey; he ends their careers. “If you’re like me… a born-again, Bible-believing Christian, the issues are black and white,” Golba says. “There’s not much room for gray area. You’ve got to take a stand.” (168)

This paper argues that Tim Golba is exactly right. In essence: We limit formal economic analysis to pri-vate decisions, yet passionately express heart-felt moral concerns about government and society when voting. We do not research the net present value of competing policy proposals because we’re too busy, we’re too many, and we’re too satisfied with our ob-


of “rational ignorance.”2 According to Downs, voter ignorance becomes rational in a democracy when the odds of casting a decisive ballot are low enough to yield virtually no payoff for acquiring objective political knowledge. Nevertheless, because citizens should know of their knowledge deficits, and would thus vote with rational expectations, all voter error should become random on aggregate. Caplan agrees with democracy’s incentive for rational ignorance, but adds a behavioral dimension to voter motivation. In The Myth of the Rational Voter, Caplan deviates from the orthodoxy of public choice with his claim that democracy incentivizes not just rational igno-rance, but “rationally irrational” voting behavior. Caplan argues that voters actively endorse system-atically biased political beliefs when the psychologi-cal benefits of indulging irrationality outweigh the opportunity cost of voting with rational expectations for an improbable, tie-breaking vote that demands sensible policy change. In this scenario, voter error is systematically biased, and democracy continually delivers bad policy.

Using metaphors from The Happiness Hypothesis by Jonathan Haidt, the dynamic of rational irratio-nality resembles the interplay of the rider and the el-ephant in the divided self. For every individual, you feel like a unified person, but the automatic, uncon-scious processes of your elephant and the controlled, conscious processes of your rider sometimes conflict. An elephant will obey a rider’s orders when it per-ceives that the cost to tuning out brings more harm than just playing along. But when the coast is clear, the rider’s orders become irrelevant, as the elephant will assert its dominance whenever it can. Like the psychological tenet of social functionalism: your el-ephant continually asks its rider “can I believe it?” for what it wants to hear versus “must I believe it?” for what it does not. Caplan’s economic rationale has the same basic message: we act with rational expectations when we perceive that the material costs of error ex-ceed the intrinsic benefits of irrational intuition; but when the cost of irrationality begins to fall below an equilibrium price point, the righteous mind activates its irrational motivations, with increasing intensity. For example, imagine someone who holds irrational racist views: The individual will probably hold his tongue in front of a boss of the disliked ethnicity if he wants to keep his job; but, the more the individual is with like-minded friends on the weekend, the greater the likelihood he will indulge in racial epithets.

In the introduction, Caplan attests to his book’s “three conjoining themes”. The first holds that, “doubts about the rationality of voters are empirical-ly justified. [Second]: Voter irrationality is precisely what economic theory implies once we adopt intro-

2 anthony Downs’ famous one-sentence explanation of voter ignorance in An Economic Theory of Democracy (1957) was later coined “rational ignorance” by economist Gordon Tullock in 1967. (Caplan)

spectively plausible assumptions about human moti-vation. [Third]: Voter irrationality is the key to a real-istic picture of democracy” (3). I strongly agree with his overall picture, but a complete theory requires a scientific explanation of the introspectively plausible assumption that we progressively indulge irrational belief when it becomes more and more rational to do so. In my opinion, Jonathan Haidt’s social intuitionist model of moral judgment and his Moral Foundations Theory offer the most elegant psychological explana-tions for how and why we empirically exhibit irratio-nal voter motivation, respectively.

The social intuitionist model of moral judgment best ex-plains how the righteous mind of the irrational voter ap-praises the expressive value of voting with good intentions.

In Democracy and Decision: The Pure Theory of Elec-toral Preference, Brennan and Lomasky (1993) assert that all decisions offer instrumental and expressive value. Instrumental value is how much we value what something does in the physical world (e.g., how fast a Ferrari can go from 0 to 60 miles per hour). Expressive value is how much we value what some-thing says about us abstractly (e.g., if you buy a Fer-rari, you buy the image of an adventurous millionaire with exotic tastes and passions).3 Both types of value have equal weights in market decisions: For example, most of us would enjoy the expressive self-esteem boosts and social reputation gains that come from owning a Ferrari. But a dollar spent on what a Ferrari says about us expressively and what a Ferrari does tangibly (the instrumental value) is a dollar foregone on buying a dollar’s worth of expressive and instru-mental value from any other product. Since most of us can’t pay hundreds of thousands of dollars for what a Ferrari would say about us and what it actu-ally does—we don’t. After all, a Ferrari is a rare auto-

3 In my paper, I interpret instrumental and expressive value like this: Instrumental value is the expected value of the perceived effects a decision will bring on objectively measurable outcomes in the material world on net, which include all perceived instrumental externalities. Expres-sive value is the subjective value we experience when our theory of mind perceives what a decision expresses about us both introspectively and to other peoples’ perceptions of ourselves, per se. So, expressive value is the intuitive met-ric used by social intuitionist moral judgment to evaluate our theory of mind’s “ability to attribute mental states—be-liefs, intents, desires, pretending, knowledge, etc.—to one-self and others and to understand that others have beliefs, desires and intentions that are different from one’s own,” in any decision (Premack & Woodruff, 1978). Alternatively, ex-pressive value measures our self-esteem and our perception of our own social reputation. Along these lines, expressive value really just reflects the gains and losses to the quality of life of our “social consciousness” while instrumental value reflects the gains and losses to our socially-blind self-inter-est. If humans are the only species with a theory of mind, we are the only creatures who are capable of appreciating expressive value on top of instrumental value, and the only creatures capable of morality.


mobile compared to more popular brands that don’t break the bank but still get us instrumentally “from a to b.” Yet, in democratic elections, expressive value is all that matters (Caplan, Class Lecture Outlines). To see why, consider the following equation:

Total vote value= (Instrumental value) x (Probability of a vote’s decisiveness) + Expressive Value

In an election, we weigh the instrumental value of campaign policy by the probability of our vote’s decisiveness, because if our vote does not break a tie, the election outcome will not change and neither will the winning candidate’s policy agenda. Yet, we do not discount expressive value, because we con-temporaneously enjoy the psychological benefits of our expressive decisions as we experience them in the moment; the expressive value of an individual’s act cannot be consumed by another or stolen like a tangible good. For most races, the probability of deci-siveness is effectively zero, which is why expressive value is all that matters.4 Therefore, in most elections, the instrumental differences between competing pol-icy platforms are negligible, and expressive value is the decisive ground on which candidates compete.5

In their recent paper, Gelman, Silver, and Edlin (2009) estimate the probability of voter decisiveness for the 2008 presidential election. For the average American voter, the probability of casting a decisive vote was 1 in 60 million. For the voters in Virginia, New Mexico, New Hampshire, and Colorado with the greatest potential influence, the odds were 1 in 10 million. Therefore, a dollar of expressive value was worth 60 million times more than a dollar of instru-mental value for the average American voter6. At the very least, a dollar of expressive value was worth 10 million in instrumental policy in just four states. Ca-plan considers these enormous relative prices, “the

4 This effectively eliminates the role of formal economic cost-benefit analysis in voter motivation—not the role of the economy. Of course the economy intuitively influences the life of the mind. The point being made here is that people do not research for elections like they do for the stock market, because there’s no pay-off. 5 Since the probability of decisiveness varies inversely with group size, I’d be interested to learn how much ratio-nal irrationality explains why group productivity increases with membership at early levels, but decreases at higher levels. In economics, I learned about group dynamics in terms of asymmetric information problems, like free-riding and adverse selection, and resources. 6 Just think about whether a crowd cheers for expressive value or instrumental value during a political speech. This is why the impression that President Bush could drink a beer with an average Joe matters. This is also why President Obama, Professor Gates, and Sergeant Crowley drank beer for cameras in the Rose Garden last fall.

key asymmetry between politics and markets,”7 and the first pillar of his argument on behavioral political economy (Caplan, CLO)8. His crucial distinction is, “in Brennan and Lomasky’s expressive voting theo-ry, voters [using rational expectations] know that feel-good policies are ineffective…in contrast, rationally irrational voters believe that feel-good policies work” (139). If voters have good-intentions when they vote expressively, Caplan’s ideas find an ideal match from psychology to capture how the righteous mind of the irrational voter drives good people to choose bad policies.

Social intuitionist moral judgment is the leading candidate for how voters evaluate expressive value for group decisions with good intentions. In his forthcoming book, The Righteous Mind: Why Good Peo-ple are Divided by Politics and Religion, Jonathan Haidt describes how private moral judgment would assess expressive value:

I embraced a modified Humean model in which intuition…leads to moral judgment, and then reasoning follows judgment primarily to con-struct post-hoc justifications. Moral intuition refers to the sudden appearance in conscious-ness, or at the fringe of consciousness, of an evaluative feeling (like-dislike, good-bad) about the character or actions of a person, without any conscious awareness of having gone through steps of search, weighing evidence, or inferring a conclusion. Moral reasoning is conscious mental activity that consists of transforming informa-tion about people in order to reach a moral judg-ment. (46)

Just as Caplan emphasizes how rational irratio-nality should “above all… be conceived as tacit,” social intuitionist moral judgment is “best understood as a quick gut feeling—not as a product of reasoning” (Caplan, 126; Haidt, “What is Wrong with Those

7 Personally, I think the ability to consciously perceive relative instrumental and expressive prices is also the key economic asymmetry between the psychology of human beings and all other life. Interpreting Haidt, I think it is at least the key asymmetry between normal social behavior and autism, infancy, and psycopathy. See Exhibit 5 for more on this.8 As Westen and Haidt note, Republicans offer much more effective gut-level appeals than Democrats in presi-dential elections, which may explain their recently superior presidential election record, as well as the successful cam-paigns of FDR Dems. To the extent that Republicans moral-ize instrumental issues with framing techniques—and spe-cial interest groups can get Democrats and Republicans to do the same—they are politically astute.


Tea Partiers?”).9 Furthermore, these evaluations are “particularly clear in social and political judgments” (56). As evidence, Haidt cites Todorov’s staggering finding (2005) that automatic competency judgments of the photos of unknown congressional candidates predicted the winner of congressional elections from 2000 to 2004 roughly two-thirds of the time.10 In this fashion, the automatic processes of moral intuition likely measure expressive value and irrational voter motivation. Accordingly, the controlled processes of reasoned cognition formally measure instrumen-tal value and sensible voter motivation, as rational choice theorists would espouse while ignoring ex-pressive value and voter irrationality.11 Even more, if instrumental and expressive value exist in all deci-sions and match our two primary cognitions, they might be viewed as our cognition’s actual domain.12

Furthermore, Haidt’s Moral Foundations Theory explains why we evaluate the expressive value of group decisions with good intentions. Specifically, in elections, moral judgment will appraise expres-sive value according to how candidates trigger the seven moral foundations that reside in our intuition.

With the finest public opinion data on economic knowledge12, Caplan finds strong evidence of sys-tematic voter bias after comparing the average be-liefs of voters and economists, adjusting for demo-graphics and economic knowledge. The data show that bias explains one-fifth of the unadjusted lay-expert belief gap. In fact, “the belief gap between economists and the public is more than 70 percent larger than the belief gap between America’s far left and far right. If that isn’t big, what is?” (“Critical Review Symposium on My Book”, EconLog). These staggering results strike at the heart of rational

9 This is psychology’s best counter to the critique that economists Robin Hanson and Tyler Cowen pose to Caplan, which asks, “Why isn’t expressive value adjusted for prob-abilities, too? Ex: You do not feel like a great person when you donate a penny to charity. Why would you feel like a great person when you vote against your financial interests? The former is probably a bigger sacrifice than the latter” (Caplan, CLO). 10 Footnote from The Righteous Mind, “The original study found no decline of accuracy with a 1 second exposure. The tenth-of-a-second finding is from a follow-up study, Ballew & Todorov, 2007{#1874}. This study also addressed the pos-sibility that incumbency is a 3rd variable that makes politi-cians look competent and also, coincidentally, win. It is not. Prediction by facial competence was just as accurate in races where there was no incumbent, or where the incumbent lost, as it was when the incumbent won” (59).11 as cognitive behavioral therapy shows, reasoned cog-nition has the potential to change intuitive cognition. As cognitive behavioral therapy shows, this is quite difficult in practice.12 The Washington Post, Kaiser Family Foundation, and Harvard University Survey Project’s Survey of Americans and Economists on the Economy was the first public opinion study to ask voters and economists the same economic belief ques-tions at the same historical time.

choice theory and serve as the evidence for Caplan’s first theme, “doubts about the rationality of voters are empirically justified.” To make up for what was conceptually lacking from psychology before pub-lication, Caplan proposes that rationally irrational motivation follows our “preferences over beliefs” (which I more easily interpreted as “preferences on the various beliefs we hold”). He proposes that these preferences over beliefs include four systematic, eco-nomic belief biases: antimarket, make-work, antifor-eign, and pessimistic bias. His second finding—that lay-expert belief differences go in the directions these biases predict—points to the systematic influ-ence of the universal moral foundations that under-lay social intuitionist moral judgment.

Moral Foundations Theory argues that we pos-sess innate, moral taste receptors that come pre-pared in advance of experience and become activat-ed by our experiences to universally shape the flavor of our moral intuitions. The theory contends that we evolved intuitive receptor modules in response to certain adaptive challenges, such that a proper do-main of adaptive triggers sparked a specific moral module’s flash appraisal of right and wrong, lead-ing to appropriate responses that aided survival. In modern life, moral modularity can help explain why social intuitionist moral judgment responds system-atically to perceived stimuli that resemble adaptive moral triggers, and why we see cultural variation in morality that corresponds predictably and robustly with cultural environment. Haidt has identified seven moral foundations that predominantly shape an individual’s moral matrix, which is one’s unique assembly of the seven modules that vary in relative sensitivity and intensity.13 In a social domain, a moral matrix not only appraises perceived stimuli: an individual matrix interacts with conflicting or harmonizing moral matrices that exist in the same realm, for better or for worse. For example, Nicho-las Wade’s anthropological examples in The Faith Instinct show how selfish iconoclasts who posed threats to an ancestral tribe’s moral matrix won as-sassination for the benefit of tribe solidarity, some-times at the hands of siblings to minimize fallout.

Furthermore, Moral Foundations Theory pro-vides the best causal explanation for why voter bias on the economy varies systematically. In my opin-ion, neither theories of personality, emotion, nor at-tentive cognitive biases offer equally satisfying sto-ries for the evolutionary underpinnings of ideology (the “why”) and have a corresponding psychologi-cal mechanism like social intuitionist moral judg-ment (the “how”). Put together, the ideas of Toma-sello, Wade, Haidt and others thoroughly trace the gene-cultural co-evolution of morality—the “who,”

13 They are: Care/harm, Liberty/domination, Proportional-ity/cheating, Ownership/trespass, Loyalty/betrayal, Author-ity/subversion, and Sanctity/degradation.


“where,” “when,” “why” and “how” of the intuitive force that drives the righteous mind of politics and religion.14

Moreover, our moral foundations fit the four biases Caplan uses to explain why voters hold sys-tematically biased beliefs on the economy.15 Pro-portionality/cheating explains antimarket bias: the misperception that payment for goods and services is a subsidy from exploited consumers to greedy businesses, instead of mutually beneficial exchange. Antimarket perception triggers the Care/harm foun-dation when we respond to the negative outcomes of capitalism’s “winners and losers” scenario.16 Pro-portionality/cheating and Care/harm also account for make-work bias: the belief that the pain caused by jobs lost to technological progress is bad, because “an economy grows with jobs, not productivity.” In economic jargon, make-work views inappropriately value progress as the “ratio of effort to result,” in-stead of “result to effort.” Antiforeign bias against the economic benefits of interaction with foreigners may trigger the standard foundations of xenophobia: Au-thority/subversion, Loyalty/betrayal, and Sanctity/degradation.17 Finally, the fear, anxiety, or paranoia of pessimistic bias—our tendency to overestimate economic problems and ignore good trends—were probably valuable byproducts of our ancestral mo-rality’s total response to routine existential threats. Therefore, if expressive value depends on how much a candidate triggers a voter’s moral matrix of the sev-en foundations, Moral Foundations Theory explains why voters hold systematically biased beliefs on the economy.

Put together, the Haidt-Caplan model of voter motivation predicts the winner of an American election is the candi-date who offers the most expressive value to the median voter’s moral matrix.

According to Caplan and many other researchers, the Median Voter Theorem most accurately models American electoral outcomes. The theorem states that if voter preferences are uni-dimensional in a simple

14 Summarizing Tomasello’s findings on the phylogeny and ontogeny of human social cognition, Wade’s Faith In-stinct and The Righteous Mind is not the purpose of this paper, so buy their books! Yet, impressively, Caplan writes about the upshot of Nicholas Wade or Jonathan Haidt’s analysis of modern-day morality: that politics largely re-placed religion as the primary outlet for the religiosity of our ancestors’ faith instinct.15 For an in-depth review of evidence from the SAEE using Caplan’s biases and Moral Foundations Theory, see Exhibit 2. 16 Although a market economy creates more winners than a command or a tradition-based economy (Elzinga, Econ 201).17 Caplan’s ideas suggest Proportionality/cheating and Liberty/domination may be at play if people believe foreign trade cheats the system with child labor or steals economic liberty by promoting globalization, outsourcing, etc…

majority election between two candidates and both candidates know voter preferences and want to win; campaigns will converge at a Nash equilibrium—the median voter’s bliss point. Given our constitutional law, Caplan acknowledges, “The Median Voter Theo-rem, taken strictly, does not predict that the prefer-ence of the median U.S. voter will prevail under these circumstances. Instead: (1) The U.S. president will cater to the median electoral vote. (2) Senators will ca-ter to the median voter in their state. (3) Representa-tives will cater to the median voter in their district. (4) Supreme Court’s activity depends on the median jus-tice, who was a compromise between the President and the Senate at the time of his appointment [pos-sibly 50 or even 60 years ago!]” (“Empirical Accuracy of the Median Voter Model”, CLO). Caplan among others find these assumptions significantly hold in reality on both state and federal levels. Presumably, the median voter lived in Dade County, FL in 2000 and in Ohio in 2004. Since the median voter’s intui-tive appraisal of expressive value is all that matters in American elections, and moral foundations underpin our intuitive moral judgment: the candidate who of-fers the most expressive value to the median voter’s moral matrix is the winner of an American election.

A Haidt-Caplan model of voter motivation would explain why democracy systematically produces ineffective policy, why Americans are group-interested ideological voters, and why democracy naturally facilitates strong partisan-ship. Remarkably, the Haidt-Caplan model yields sugges-tive modern-day evidence of multi-level selection in hu-man evolution.

By debunking the “Myth of the Rational Voter” with rational irrationality, Caplan simultaneously debunks the “Miracle of Aggregation” in democratic elections. With rational voters, the Miracle of Ag-gregation (the Law of Large Numbers), chooses the best candidate with almost any amount of voter ig-norance. For example, with a 90% rationally ignorant populace, votes should split equally, as all voter er-ror is random. This, miraculously, allows the median voter in the 10% enlightened subgroup to cast the de-cisive vote, as if all voters were well-informed.18 The Miracle holds for questions that assign equal weight to expressive and instrumental value, and thus no incentive for decision-value bias.19 It explains how stock market prices and Vegas odds come together to yield stunningly accurate valuations. Yet, in Ameri-can elections, the median voter’s moral matrix is

18 Technically, this improbable result requires the as-sumptions of the Median Voter Theorem.19 Computer algorithms can answer wholly instrumental questions much more effectively than humans. But without shared intentionality architecture and a theory of mind abil-ity to perceive expressive value (Tomasello), there can be no artificial intelligence. An interesting behavioral political economy study would examine where we allow computers to replace people and where we don’t, and why.


decisive, and holds systematically biased economic beliefs. Inescapably, biased voters then mandate inef-fective policies with good intentions that leaders de-liver in order to get re-elected.20 This is democracy’s hamartia and the rationale behind most of my Haidt-meets-Caplan title, “The Righteous Mind of the Irra-tional Voter: Why Good People Choose Bad Policies.”

So what does the righteous mind look like in isolation? Voting behavior may provide the modern day’s best window.

Public opinion studies by Caplan and many others debunk the Self-Interested Voter Hypothesis (SIVH) that self-interest drives voting behavior. In Caplan’s research, he defines self-interest as, “directly valuing only one’s own material well-being, health, safety, comfort, and so on.” 21 He, “[draws] on evolution-ary psychology [to interpret] altruism towards blood relatives in proportion to shared genes as self-inter-est” (CLO). What do Caplan and political scientists uniformly show? “The self-interested voter hypoth-esis—or SIVH—is false” (149). A review of the overall findings is really quite “counter-intuitive” and worth mentioning:

(1) the rich are only slightly more likely to be Re-publicans than Democrats, (2) the unemployed are not much more in favor of relief measures, (3) Busing - Childless whites are as opposed as whites with chil-dren, (4) Social Security and Medicare- The elderly are if anything slightly less in favor than the young, (5) Abortion - Men are slightly more pro-choice than women, (6) the SIVH fails for government spending, but has some moderate support for taxes, (7) The SIVH fails for potential death in combat! Relatives and friends of military personnel in Vietnam were more in favor of the war than the rest of the popu-lation. Similarly, draft-age males support the draft as strongly as other people... Overall, this body of evidence can only be described as revolutionary. It is very hard to argue against it, and it means that most of what people think and write about politics is wrong. Thousands of articles - and millions of con-versations - have been a big waste of time because no one bothered to examine the empirical evidence. (“Voter Motivation and the SIVH”, CLO)

Unsurprisingly, traditional political economy’s account of voter motivation is the self-interested view.

On the other hand, Caplan finds strong evidence for the Group Interested Voter Hypothesis (GIVH)

20 See Exhibit 3 for Caplan’s overview of the govern-ment’s policy that voters choose.21 From The Myth of the Rational Voter, “To be more precise, they are not selfish in the conventional sense of trying to maximize their wealth or income. My analysis does assume that people choose their beliefs based on psychological ben-efits to themselves, ignoring the cost to society. Thus, my thesis is that voters are selfish in an unusual but non-tautol-ogous sense of the word. I would like to thank philosopher Michael Huemer for highlighting this ambiguity.” (229)

and very strong evidence for ideological voting. To test the GIVH, he defines group-interested voting as choosing policy that hurts your self-interest, but helps your group. The GIVH data show race is the strongest determinant of party identification—more than age, gender, education, job security, income and income growth. To test for ideological voting, he examines a factor analysis of public opinion that shows how U.S. public opinion follows the left-right political dimension. Even more, the ideological vot-ing data show that ideological motivation is indeed sociotropic (ultrasocial), in that voters support the politics they perceive as best for the public interest— not one’s own. Consequently, the U.S. ideological spectrum is really the range of political belief on what ideas will best serve a government of, by, and—in-deed—for the people. In other words, good people choose ultrasocial policies. Moreover, Caplan flat-out rejects sociotropic voting’s main objection that ideol-ogy may reduce to personal interests, “No. The cor-relation between income and professed ideology is very low [r=.06].” Accounting for the gene’s eye view of self-interest and rational irrationality, he finds, overall, “very strong evidence for ideological voting; strong evidence for group-interested voting, with race being the main group of interest; self-interest plays a marginal role at most…ideology is far from a ‘mere proxy for self-interest.’” In search of a causal explanation, he asks “So what then is ideology? As far as anyone can show, ideology is an independent causal force. Ideology explains a great deal about people’s beliefs, but nothing we know of does much to explain ideology.”22

Moral psychology explains why we vote ideo-logically for our group’s interest. The fourth tenet of moral psychology sheds light on why moral diversi-ty parallels political diversity. The social functionalist principle—“morality binds and builds”— contends that human evolution was not only shaped by selection on the individual level, but also by group selection, or the survival of the fittest groups. Haidt theorizes how individual and group selection fashioned our mix of moral foundations by binding compatible moral matrices that persisted to bind and build fit in-dividuals and groups. As Wade brilliantly chronicles in The Faith Instinct, the universal people were hunt-er-gatherers who lived in mortal combat with rival tribes. In this setting, if an individual’s adaptation spread such that it helped a tribe’s odds of survival, but hurt an individual’s self-interest: that adaptation became an expression of group selection in the pres-ence of group competition (genocidal warfare). As Caplan’s definitions reflect, the difference between individual and group selection is: Individual selec-tion expressed adaptations that were in the best inter-

22 He follows, “Maybe someone will one day show that ideology reduces to something else, but given the failure of all the obvious candidates, I doubt it.” I hope this paper changes his mind.


est of one and one’s own genes’, “material well-being, health, safety, comfort, and so on,” while group selec-tion expressed adaptations that were in the group’s best interest, not one’s own. For example, imagine a soldier whose moral compass drives him to die for his country when he can only hope the group will take care of his family.23 And imagine the assassina-tion, or even fratricide, of the self-interested ancestral pacifist who thought he could free ride.24

In contemporary life, democratic incentives pro-vide a window into the righteous mind of the uni-versal people. Caplan was the first to point out that expressive value is all that matters in the very elec-tions where we vote with righteous, ultrasocial inten-tions. What I argue is that not only does our intuitive morality evaluate the expressive component of the left-right ideological spectrum; our votes follow the left-right ideological spectrum because the range of our morality diversity is the intuitive, left-right political spectrum. The Haidt-Caplan model implies that mor-al diversity reflects the aggregate distribution and ac-tivation of our innate moral foundations. In fact, The Righteous Mind traces how the seven moral founda-tions vary systematically along the left-right political spectrum, as the data from YourMorals.org corrobo-rate. Perhaps the Haidt-Caplan model explains why Caplan reports, “Remarkably, voting in the U.N. is also one-dimensional, in spite of the extreme hetero-geneity of the participants” (“Ideology”, CLO).

Given a universal moral, political spectrum, Ca-plan’s voter motivation findings may provide fas-cinating new evidence of multi-level selection from the modern-day. Evolutionary theory is difficult to test by its very historical nature. Yet, in the very in-tuitive, group-interested appraisals of democratic elections, voter motivation reflects the influence of group dynamics, while self-interest is marginal at best. The presence of ultrasocial voter motivation in the absence of self-interest not only asks the gene’s eye view and reciprocal altruism to explain, “why not group selection?” but, “where was individual selection?” The psychological school of social func-tionalism, however, maintains enough flexibility with multi-level selection to maintain the reasonable view that the relative influences of selfish and ultra-social motivations change with incentives—neither is always salient. Moral Foundations Theory is the best causal story in any social science that can at least pin down what ideology is in democratic settings.

A Haidt-Caplan model would also explain why democracy naturally facilitates strong partisanship. On a macro level, the Median Voter Theorem predicts

23 The following quotation from a reconnaissance marine in Afghanistan is a powerful example of the same principle. “A veteran is someone who, at one point in his life, wrote a blank check made payable to ‘The United States of America‘ for an amount of ‘up to and including my life.’”24 Imagine it from the pacifist’s perspective, unless the assassins acted against their self-interest to enforce group norms.

two parties will always find each other racing to the median voter’s position on a single issue spectrum in a simple majority election. 25 Since Caplan finds evi-dence of a single liberal-conservative dimension, we should expect the continuous gridlock the Theorem predicts as parties of opponent ideology fight to offer greater expressive value to the median voter’s moral matrix.

Moreover, if Caplan’s insight on belief bias re-veals why democracies choose bad policies, Haidt’s psychological take on confirmation bias—“morality binds and blinds”—explains why democracy naturally facilitates strong partisanship. Moral psychology’s second principle is, “Moral Thinking is for Social Do-ing.” On an individual level, we are social function-alists practicing social intuitionist moral judgment: We care about society’s evaluations of ourselves. We manipulate them. We champion the post-hoc justi-fications of our intuition. We accept rational doubts when we must, but believe anything irrational when we can. When motivated by group-interest, we be-come especially righteous to support our teams and show commitment. Accordingly, after morality first binds us into socially valuable groups, it blinds us to out-group moral challenges that threaten our group’s solidarity since “Moral Thinking is for Social Doing.” As artificial intelligence theorist Eliezer Yudkowsky imagines it, “Politics is the mind-killer. Arguments are soldiers. Once you know which side you’re on, you must support all arguments of that side, and attack all arguments that appear to favor the en-emy side; otherwise it’s like stabbing your soldiers in the back. If you abide within that pattern, policy debates will also appear one-sided to you - the costs and drawbacks of your favored policy are enemy sol-diers, to be attacked by any means necessary.”

Caplan finds powerful evidence of confirmation bias in his public opinion research. First, he finds that ideology and education—two nearly uncorrelated summary variables (r = -0.3)—both individually predict antimarket and antiforeign biases. Then, he finds how ideology and education interact to predict bias significantly more as a product than just ideol-ogy alone. The t-statistic of ideology*education il-lustrates, “The higher your education level, the more likely you are to know what your ideology says about a given topic. For someone with a grade-school edu-cation, ‘liberal’ is just a word; for a Ph.D., it is an in-tegrated worldview” (“Ideology”, CLO). Therefore, the joint effect of ideology and knowledge points to how education is fuel for confirmation bias, because better educated individuals know more information that supports their ideology. Caplan then extends the ideology*education t-stat analysis to both micro individual issues and the entire liberal-conservative spectrum of ideology. Overall, both micro and macro beliefs fall prey to confirmation bias. His subsequent

25 For Caplan’s explanations of why platforms do not completely converge, see Exhibit 4.


review of Zaller’s “mainstream” and “polarization” effects relays how political awareness would predict biased knowledge on partisan issues that support our groups, and only unbiased knowledge for non-partisan issues. What else but a Haidt-Caplan model could explain how and why we would see this?

Thus, systematic belief bias not only breeds inef-fective policy with perverse voter incentives—sys-tematic confirmation bias facilitates ineffective pol-icy-making by inspiring group loyalty and partisan politics. As Haidt writes in The Righteous Mind’s in-troduction:

I will argue that an obsession with righteousness, leading inevitably to self-righteousness, is the nor-mal human condition. It is a feature of our design, not a bug or error that crept into minds that would otherwise be objective and rational. I will show how our righteous minds made it possible for human be-ings—but no other animals—to produce large co-operative groups, tribes, and nations that were not based on kinship. But at the same time, our righteous minds guarantee that our cooperative groups will always be cursed by moralistic strife. Indeed, some degree of conflict among individuals and groups may be necessary for the maintenance of moral order. When I was a teenager I wished for world peace, but now I yearn for a world in which competing ideolo-gies are kept in balance, accountability systems work well, and fewer people believe that righteous ends justify uncivil means. Not a very romantic wish, but one that we might actually achieve.” (5)

Sadly, education is not the answer, when knowl-edge is political power.

Interesting new research on how schadenfreude increases with group size corroborates how democ-racy naturally facilitates strong partisanship (Anthes, 2010). Multiple researchers have identified a biologi-cal basis for schadenfreude: the German word for taking pleasure in someone else’s misfortune. On an individual level, Takahashi (2009) found that hearing fictional stories about someone else’s misfortune ac-tivates a reward processing center in the brain called the striatum, which produces a feeling of pleasure akin to “eating a good meal” (Anthes). But research-ers are now discovering that schadenfreude is “more potent and insidious” when it is intergroup. Van Dijk and Ouwerkerk (2009) found participants in an eco-nomic sharing game experienced more pleasure at de-feating rival teams than rival individuals. Moreover, researchers have shown we experience intergroup schadenfreude even when it is objectively bad for so-ciety. For example, Smith (2009) documented student reactions to, “current events in the run-up to the 2004 and 2008 presidential elections and the 2006 midterm elections” (Anthes). He found Democrats experi-enced secret happiness in the, “economic downturn and the deaths of American troops abroad because they believed these events would bode well for their party.” As expected, Schadenfreude was increasing

in Democratic identification. Leach and Spears (2009) identified how intergroup schadenfreude, at benign events, predicts the type of prejudice harnessed by terrorists and dictators to drive violence and geno-cide. In a series of surveys, Dutch students who ex-perienced greater schadenfreude at German rivals losing a soccer match were significantly more likely to then hold pejorative prejudices about the German people. Overall, researchers agree that individual schadenfreude likely evolved to help individuals no-tice and profit from another’s loss. Yet, new research illustrates that the more potent and insidious inter-group schadenfreude was likely an upshot of group selection to bind, blind and build strong groups for warfare. Evidently, intergroup schadenfreude helps drive our propensity for war, religious strife and par-tisan politics in a two-party democracy. I just wonder if it’s rational.26

Using Moral Foundations Theory, I expect con-servatives, more than liberals, do not rest when their own side is in power. In my opinion, Moral Founda-tions Theory predicts both liberals and conservatives will become politically engaged in anti-incumbent settings. When the other side is in power, the primary liberal foundations—Liberty/domination and Care/harm—fire negative signals. In other words, liberals feel that conservatives abuse the “social contract” of individual rights and government responsibility, and cause more harm than good: and so they become mor-ally outraged and civically engaged. For the right, liberal rule primes the prominent conservative moral foundations, which are all seven. Currently, they feel Obama is: hurting America with socialism (Care/harm), betraying campaign promises with party-line legislation (Loyalty/betrayal), subverting the Con-stitution with the healthcare mandate (Authority/subversion), oppressing individual liberty with the healthcare mandate (Liberty/domination), steal-ing their money with taxes (Ownership/trespass), rewarding cheaters on welfare (Proportionality/cheating), and damning the hallowed ground of the presidency since he is an Islamic socialist born in Ke-nya (Sanctity/degradation). But, relative to liberals, conservatives should stay more engaged in incum-bent settings because they experience significantly greater in-group moral intuitions from the Author-ity/subversion, Loyalty/betrayal and Sanctity/deg-radation foundations. Even if conservatives disagree with leadership, they obey authority, remain loyal, and avoid sinning against the church of American Civil Religion—like many Tea Partiers who withheld existential threats about the debt, the deficit, and the

26 A Haidt-Caplan model and schadenfreude might also explain why the 1919 Versailles negotiations after World War I were so uncivil and unreasonable that John Maynard Keynes quit in frustration. The German reparations package was so burdensome it had the intended effect of ruining the German economy with hyperinflation, paving the way for Hitler’s nationalism. Yet, the reparations were finally paid off —on October 3rd, 2010.


dreams of the Framers until President Obama came into power. Relative to conservatives, movement lib-erals should check out when their leader is in power, because they have no moral foundation or expressive value to respond to. When the President is the anti-Bush, they lose interest in debates on Keynesian vs. Supply Side Economics, and lose the mid-term elec-tions.27

If you’re a conservative, did you feel a flash of anger, contempt or disgust when you read the title Thomas Frank released to the United Kingdom and Australia? If you’re a liberal, did it give you a sense of validation?28 If our morality evolved to allow us to function within groups and work together against out-groups: naturally, we derive expressive value from the political messages that inspire our group af-finities, which we naturally and vehemently defend against out-group challenges. Thus, in a moralistic democracy, rational appeals from both sides should fall on deaf ears, as voter incentives create two armies of seemingly irreconcilable ideology.29 As Benjamin Franklin wrote, “Passion rules…and she never rules wisely.”

I will now discuss reform principles, as well as specific measures, that may induce more effective government by reducing the effects of systematic bias via market mecha-nisms and constitutional reform.

A Haidt-Caplan model of voter motivation sug-gests an unconstrained, overarching vision for re-form and a constrained, strict decision rule for in-dividual reforms. The overarching vision of reform seeks to eliminate ineffective bias at all steps of the government process in order to create the most effec-tive democratic republic possible. The strict decision rule for an individual reform that reduces bias is: the median voter’s moral matrix must either prefer the reform or be indifferent to it.30 Despite democracy’s collective action problems and incentives for rational irrationality, citizens can still elicit desirable behavior from elected officials by over-punishing (Caplan). If a majority of voters oppose a political development on moral grounds, they will righteously backlash at politicians with the vengeance of hunter gatherers or French revolutionaries, which serves as an implicit check on immoral political behavior. If the median voter is intuitively indifferent to an instrumental pol-icy like a NASA initiative, lawmakers have the flex-

27 For more analysis of conservatives and liberals using Moral Foundations Theory, see Exhibit 1.28 If you’re a libertarian: http://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=166593429 Yeats first stanza of “The Second Coming” echoes this same dynamic.30 In economics this means the median voter must “strict-ly prefer” the policy. For more complex analysis on mini-mum winning coalitions (MWCs) with bicameralism and division of powers, see this Caplan lecture: http://econfac-ulty.gmu.edu/bcaplan/e410/pc8.htm

ibility to choose good or bad policies. These “mar-gins of indifference” for instrumental policy may be democracy’s saving grace, depending on whether they’re leveraged for good or ill.31

The first policy view holds that market mecha-nisms should replace government failure as a rule. Arguably, Caplan makes the leading academic con-tribution to this school by illuminating why democ-racies choose bad policies. Unlike voting booths, mar-kets offer no decision-value bias by assigning equal weight to instrumental and expressive value, which meets the overarching reform principle.32 Yet, we of-ten view markets and government as compliments instead of substitutes for resource allocation. As Ca-plan points out, when we say democracy is the better of all evils, why doesn’t the comparison include mar-kets? Because his analysis also shows us that market mechanisms do not meet the strict decision rule of reform: the median voter’s moral matrix is systemati-cally biased against capitalism.33 Therefore, whatever practical opportunities exist for market reform prob-ably reside along the margins of indifference.

A second view champions constitutional reform that reduces the disproportional influence of fac-tions by removing structural bias in our Constitu-tion. Plausibly, the median voter’s moral matrix may endorse constitutional reform that limits the inequi-table power of factions, if the moral intuitions from our Proportionality/cheating foundation outweigh our status-quo conservatism.34

31 See Exhibit 4 for a full review of the good, the bad, and the ugly of democracy according to Caplan. 32 For example, as individuals in the marketplace, we may expressively value a Ferrari over a more reasonable car, but most can’t pay for what a Ferrari does instrumentally—so most don’t. It is not rationally irrational to buy your dream car and drive it straight from the dealer to bankruptcy court under normal circumstances. Yet, as voters, we are allowed to indulge our expressive preferences with little consider-ation of the instrumental implications, and our government owes its debtors about 14 trillion dollars—or 26000% more than the wealth of Bill Gates.33 See this overview of Bhattacharjee, Dana, and Baron’s fascinating new paper that shows how Americans “do not believe in the invisible hand”: http://econlog.econlib.org/archives/2010/12/the_psychology_1.html34 Status-quo conservatism is one of Stenner’s “Three Kinds of ‘Conservatism’” (2009). Put together, the three may be the most accurate personality definitions of con-servatism. To my knowledge, there are not similarly sub-stantive personality definitions for the different types of liberalism, but I think Jonathan Alter’s distinction between action and movement liberals (2010) may yield power-ful definitions: http://www.nytimes.com/2010/10/24/books/review/Alter-t.html. That is, until David Brooks, whom I love, recasts his colleagues’ ideas: http://www.nytimes.com/2010/12/10/opinion/10brooks.html?_r=1&ref=columnists.”Perhaps psychologists can explain the interesting combination: intellectual self-confidence along-side a political inferiority complex.” Perhaps Haidt, Caplan, and an undergraduate?


In A More Perfect Constitution, Larry Sabato pro-poses three amendments that range in feasibility, but would make government more effective and propor-tionallyrepresentative—with little downside.

The first is nonpartisan house redistricting. Sabato argues that partisan redistricting after each decennial census is the largest reason parties cannot promote worthy incumbent challengers to increase political competition.35 In his opinion, redistricting’s result is, “geography is destiny in politics,” as evidenced by Abramowitz’s finding that the majority of states have partisan redistricting controlled by the largest party in the state legislature (34). A strong example comes from the 2006 midterm elections: Democrats won the Michigan popular vote by 54 to 46 percent, as well as the races for Senate and Governor—yet, Republicans lost no house seats. A nonpartisan house redistrict-ing amendment would create known, unalterable, compact districts, so candidates would campaign with rational expectations, face greater competition, and acquire better ability to represent a more com-pact constituency. It would employ minimum split districting software that creates the benefits of com-pactness without sacrificing minority representation. Last, states would choose between a few nonpartisan commission types, like retired judge panels or citizen commissions, which have worked empirically in all eight states that have tried.

The second amendment is a line-item veto with the appropriate legalese to avoid a second uncon-stitutional ruling. With a line-item veto, a president can reject an individual piece of pork in an appro-priations bill without having to veto the bill entirely. Accordingly, the veto reduces wasteful spending and redirects savings to pay off the national debt while improving government productivity. The third amendment enlarges the Senate, which helps solve the problem that 17% of the population controlled the Senate majority in 2008 and 11% could filibuster. Adding two senators for each of the ten largest states and one senator for each of the next largest fifteen would make the Senate and Electoral College fairer

35 If rational irrationality says an expert’s opinions be-come more trustworthy when they are transparently backed by bets: “The Crystal Ball has been a leader in accurately predicting elections since its inception. In 2004, the Crys-tal Ball notched a 99 percent accuracy rate in predicting all races for House, Senate, Governor and each state’s Electoral College outcome. In 2006 the Pew Research Center and the Pew Charitable Trusts’ Project for Excellence in Journalism recognized the Crystal Ball as the leader in the field of po-litical predictors, noting that the site ‘came closer than any other of the top ten potential predictors this cycle.’ 2008 was yet another banner year, as the Crystal Ball came the closest of any national prognosticator in predicting the results of the presidential race, while achieving a 100 percent accu-racy rating by correctly predicting the result of every single gubernatorial and Senate race across the country” (http://www.centerforpolitics.org/crystalball/about/).

while retaining some smaller measure of minor-ity protection. President Obama’s recent experience shows how the Senate can easily impede a large ma-jority’s agenda, which gives disproportional bias to minority interests.

The barriers to these bias-reducing reforms are not easily surmountable, but they at least may of-fer appeal to the median voter, and may therefore be possible.

At my inquiry, Professor Sabato suggested I put greater emphasis on how the political process itself creates the good and bad policies that good people

choose, and he’s right. This paper focuses largely on voter motivation without tracing its path to policy.

Still I hope my investigation of voter irrational-ity encourages others to examine all components of human motivation for their influence on our politi-cal institutions, as well as the great opportunity that exists for political economy and psychology to work together. While discussing moral philosophy and ef-ficiency, Bryan Caplan—the economist—writes:

Who cares about efficiency anyway? Does any-one seriously believe that the right action is al-ways the one that does the most for Kaldor-Hicks efficiency?36 ... Efficiency is probably ONE of many consequences worth thinking. Why then should economists concentrate on it? Because they have special training for distinguishing transfers from dead weight costs, but no spe-cial training in moral philosophy. Economic analysis thus becomes a potentially useful input into the moral thinking of others. (“Efficiency”, CLO)

Exactly. Public choice and moral psychology are compliments to understanding what we value instru-mentally and expressively—not substitutes.

Caplan’s words remind me of Professor Haidt’s final lecture in Psych 101, and I’d like to extend his wisdom on the power of psychology to behavior-al political economy. When one asks, “What’s the meaning of life?”: that is an inherently subjective, un-answerable question. But when one asks, “How can I lead a happy life?”: that is a question psychology can answer empirically. And if you ask, “What’s the purpose of collective life?”: that too is an inherently subjective question. But when you ask, “How can government operate more perfectly for its citizens?”: that’s a question that society can answer with poli-tics, economics and psychology, among other disci-plines. If all decisions dissolve into instrumental and expressive value—or work and love, as Freud might

36 Not I. That’s why I choose “effective” over “efficient” as my adjective to describe total value. In fact, nowhere else in the paper do the words “efficient” or “efficiency” appear, since “effective” and “effectiveness” exclusively encapsu-late instrumental and expressive value, and rational and irrational decision-making.


say—then, behavioral political economy can tell us how society might get the best mix of gross domestic product and gross national happiness.

So, if Bryan Caplan and Jonathan Haidt’s ideas share a final lesson, it is do not be afraid to go down the rabbit hole and explore the irrational and the righteous. Sometimes the self-described little old blue collar worker has the best insights. When Bryan Caplan opened his mind to rational irrationality, he discovered how a survey’s lay-expert belief gap on 37 questions, “became the key to a realistic picture of democracy.” When Jonathan Haidt wondered if there was more to morality than the liberal ethic of harm and fairness, he uncovered the other half of the country’s moral matrix. Now, Haidt and Caplan’s ideas should challenge the comprehensiveness of any rational choice or individual selection camp that de-nies the power of irrationality and moral intuition.37

This paper argues that behavioral political econ-omy is the rabbit hole to understanding aggregate human activity. An investigation of the Haidt-Ca-plan model of voter motivation led to insight of my own: The significance of Haidt and Caplan’s ideas for be-havioral political economy are as awe-strikingly important as it gets, shedding some of the first light from social sci-ence on the righteous mind of the irrational human being.

Works Cited1. Anthes, E. (November/December 2010). “Their

Pain, Our Gain” Scientific American Mind, 21, 38-41. Published online: 28 October 2010 | doi:10.1038/scientificamericanmind1110-38

2. Brierly, A. B., 2007-04-12 “An Empirical Test of Duncan Black’s Median Voter Theorem” Paper presented at the annual meeting of the Midwest Political Science Association, Palmer House Hotel, Chicago, IL Online <APPLICATION/PDF>. 2010-01-24 from http://www.allacademic.com/meta/p197028_index.html

3. B Caplan. (2009, January 12). Critical Symposium on My Book. [Web log comment]. Retreived from http://econlog.econlib.org/archives/2009/01/critical_review.html.

4. Bryan Caplan’s website has class lectures online where he elaborates on many issues not covered in his book. I read every lecture for his under-graduate and graduate Public Choice classes, and his graduate Public Finance class. (http://www.bcaplan.com/)

5. Caplan, B. (2007) The Myth of the Rational Voter: Why Democracies Choose Bad Policies. Princeton University Press.

37 My first thought was the Realist School of International Relations. To no surprise, I read this later: http://econlog.econlib.org/archives/2009/07/whats_wrong_wit_12.html. Also, realism cannot explain if east-west impasse on is-sues like the Sino-American currency war and Liu Xiaobo’s Nobel Peace Prize are fundamentally stalemates between WEIRD and collectivist morality.

6. Edlin, A. & Gelman, A. & Silver, N. “What is The Probability Your Vote will Make a Differ-ence?” Economic Inquiry (2009).

7. Frank, L. (2004) What’s the Matter with Kansas? How Conservatives Won the Heart of America. Henry Holt & Co.

8. Haidt, J. (2006). The Happiness Hypothesis: Finding modern truth in ancient wisdom. New York: Basic Books.

9. Haidt, J. (in prep) The Righteous Mind: Why Good People are divided by politics and religion. Book under contract with Pantheon/Knopf (USA) and Penguin (UK), to be completed in 2010 and published in 2011.

10. Haidt, J. (2010). What is wrong with those Tea Partiers? On Larry Sabato’s Crystal Ball, 2/2010 Premack, D. G. & Woodruff, G. (1978). Does the chimpanzee have a theory of mind? Behavioral and Brain Sciences, 1, 515-526.

11. Sabato, L. (2008) A More Perfect Constitution: 23 Proposals to Revitalize Our Constitution and Make America a Fairer Country. Walker & Company.

12. Wade, N. (2009). The Faith Instinct: How Religion Evolved and Why It Endures. The Penguin Press.

Please see our online edition for the full article.


MonEy and MEdia in ModErn londona CoMParativE analysis of thE BusinEss ModEls of

The London evening STandard and The TimeS

Caroline Newman

this paper examines the differing business models of the London Times and the London Evening Standard, focusing on how those differences illuminate the response of traditional media institu-tions to the ever-changing dynamic of the digital age. these two institutions took a rather opposite approach in trying to garner revenue in the modern newspaper industry, with the Times choosing to charge for its online model, and the Standard opting for a free distribution model for their print edition. this paper explores the intricacies and philosophies behind each model while also com-paring their early successes and failures. Its overall aim is to use these two institutions as a small filter through which to probe and interpret print media’s response to the digital environment.

With its large population and bustling urban life, London is a rich market for modern me-

dia, and many of its media institutions are at the forefront of controversies in the field. The London Evening Standard rocked the media world when it decided to change from a paid-for newspaper to a free distribution one on October 12th, 2009. In an op-posite but equally controversial decision, the Times

decided to erect a paywall for its online editions in June 2010. These decisions represent attempts from the respective institutions to bring their products into profitability in a media world increasingly dominat-ed by the Internet. Media outlets have traditionally been considered a crucial component in fostering a robust and democratic public sphere, and both insti-tutions’ decisions have implications for that role. In

Caroline Newman is a third year student from Birmingham AL, pursuing a major in English and a minor in Media Studies. Following these interests, Caroline hopes to build a career in journalism after her graduation in May 2012. During her time at the University, Caroline has become involved in many academic and extracurricular activities. She has served as an Associate Editor for the News section of The Cavalier Daily, and is currently a writer for the Lifestyle section. She is also a member of Kappa Delta Sorority, serving on the Standards Board and, formerly, as Alumni Re-lations Chair. Caroline wrote this paper for Professor Michael Levenson after studying abroad in London during the summer of 2010.


this paper, I explore the effectiveness of both mod-els in maintaining the integrity and function of news outlets within the context of often contradictory and changing relationships between old and new media. The new business model of the Evening Standard fa-vors a product easily accessible to a wide range of people while the Times appears to favor a more ex-clusive product made sustainable by claims of high-er quality. The free model of the Evening Standard would appear more conducive to traditional concep-tions of a robust public sphere, but both models pres-ent intriguing possibilities for the future of media in a digital age.

The rise of the Internet has led to general outcry about how the newspaper will change in the digital age. Newspapers have seen declines in readership and have thus been forced to develop new business models to better reach current and potential read-ers. There is no question that the Internet, like every other major communications technology before it, has brought about widespread change in media. Ac-cording to a 2008 article, national daily sales dropped to 11.6 million from earlier numbers around 14 mil-lion.1 Declines in readership pose a pressing problem for newspapers, and the Evening Standard and the Times have not been immune to this stress. News Corp, the parent company of the Times, lost L 2.1 bil-lion in 2009, a year that chief executive Rupert Mur-doch characterized as “the most difficult in recent history.”2 Similarly, the Times reported that, prior to going free, the Evening Standard had been losing L15 million a year. Competition with two freesheets, The London Lite and thelondonpaper, had reduced the Standard’s circulation to 116,192 daily copies, as com-pared to the 450,000 the paper recorded in 2004.3 Like many papers, the Standard and the Times faced new competition from a host of Internet news sources, hurting their circulation numbers and forcing revalu-ation. Declining readership and revenues prompted change at each institution as they strove to adapt to the Internet and the rapid transformation it brought to the news environment.

Newspapers worldwide are pushing limits in an effort to come up with business strategies that are economically viable in an age so used to the World Wide Web. This push for innovation and reinterpreta-tion within traditional business models is “a pivotal moment in the history of newspapers,”4 but it is not

1 Peter Preston, “The Curse of Introversion,” Journalism Studies; October 2008, 642.2 BBC News, “Murdoch signals end of free news,” 6 Au-gust 2009. http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/business/8186701.stm3 Dan Sabbagh, “London Evening Standard to become freesheet,” The Times. 3 October 2009. http://business.timesonline.co.uk/tol/business/industry_sectors/media/article6858274.ece4 Bob Franklin, “The Future of Newspapers,” Journalism Studies. October 2008, 630.

necessarily a unique one. As Bob Franklin points out, “from telegraph to television, newspapers’ ability to adapt to changing circumstances has always provid-ed them with a survival strategy and secured their future.”5 The newspaper will continue to evolve with the new technology of the Internet; the question is, as Peter Preston puts it, “what the new model will turn out to be.”6 That is a question that the Evening Standard and the Times have tried to answer, albeit in very different ways.

The new business model of the Evening Standard represents one approach to the challenges traditional media face in the digital age. Russian oligarch Al-exander Lebedev, who owns 75.1% of The Evening Standard, decided to drastically change the business model of the paper, and, after more than 180 years as a paid-for paper, the Standard went free on Octo-ber 12th, 2009. When the paper transitioned to a free distribution model, it increased its circulation from about 250,000 papers per day to 600,000.7 The Stan-dard follows a basic model for free newspapers, with a product “aimed at the general public in metropoli-tan areas” and circulated through the “comparatively cheap distribution system” of local transportation.8 The paper is distributed through the extensive net-work of the London Underground System, as well as at various public places across the city. In addi-tion to its now free print edition, the Standard main-tains a freely accessible website. This new business model allows the Standard to expand its readership and become a more ubiquitous product throughout London.

Executives at the Standard identify several reasons for the switch to free distribution, focusing mostly economic pressure, opportunities for advertising growth, and competition for reader attention. The Standard, according to Managing Director Andrew Mullins, was “at a point where costs could not be cut any further.”9 A free distribution model, he said, could “potentially reduce cost base further” while also boosting circulation and generating “significant growth in revenue through display advertising.”10 The goal, Mullins said, was to “own a very large share of the marketplace,” and thereby create a more lucrative product for advertisers.11 In order to do this, the Standard must be able to contend with “many-

5 Franklin, 631.6 Preston, “The Curse of Introversion” 643.7 Mark Sweeney, “London Evening Standard to go free,” The Guardian, 2 October 2009 http://www.guardian.co.uk/media/2009/oct/02/london-evening-standard-free8 Piet Bakker, “Free Daily Newspapers- Business Models and Strategies,” The International Journal on Media Manage-ment, Vol. 4- No. 3, 182.9 Mark Banham, “How the Standard’s making money now it’s free,”. Campaign. Haymarket Business Publications Ltd. 25 June 2010, 17.10 Banham, 17.11 Banham, 17.


competing distractions to potential readers, particu-larly with new technologies.”12 The average commut-er on the Tube is much more likely to pick up a free paper and read it than he is to pay for a paper when he could distract himself on his phone, iPad, or iPod for no cost. Mullins’ hope is that being a freesheet will give the Standard a “large scale and reach [that] should transform our commercial fortunes.”13 Owner Lebedev believes that going free is the right choice to move his paper into the future. “I am confident that more than doubling the London Evening Standard’s circulation and maintaining its quality journalism is what London deserves,” he said, adding that he fully expects other newspapers to follow the Standard’s ex-ample.14 The free model allows the paper to increase its distribution and lower its cost to the consumer, while boosting revenue through advertising sales. This strategy works within an older medium but re-freshes that medium with a new tactic intended to create more successful competition with other prod-ucts and media outlets.

The Times took a rather opposite approach to de-veloping a financially profitable business model in the age of the Internet. In June 2010, the Times began charging for its online content at thetimes.co.uk and thesundaytimes.co.uk. A digital subscription would give readers access to the sites for L2 per week, and a 24 hour pass could be purchased for L1, with digital access being complimentary for the paper’s current paying subscribers.15 For the charged fee, the com-pany promises readers new features, better photog-raphy and videos, more interactive elements, and greater access to Times’ journalists.16 The Times aims to provide more exclusive, elite content to readers, for a small fee that is “less than the cost of a cup of coffee.”17 This model seeks to transpose a more tradi-tional paid-subscription model onto the newer me-dium of the Internet.

The Times online business model makes several assumptions and is perhaps more presumptive than a free distribution system. The concept of charging online is grounded in the premise that consumers will pay for access to a more exclusive product “if the content is valuable, not freely available elsewhere, and the payment mechanism is appropriate.”18 As the Times transitioned to a paying online model, it was banking on the truth of this assumption and re-lying heavily on the value of its content. According to the Times Online, charging online “is more economi-

12 Sweeney.13 Sweeney.14 Sweeney. 15 “Frequently Asked Questions” http://www.timesp-lus.co.uk/welcome/tp_faq_pg.htm16 “Frequently Asked Questions”. 17 “Frequently Asked Questions”. 18 Jack Herbert and Neil Thurman, “Paid Content Strate-gies for News Websites,” Journalism Practice. May 2007, 211.

cally sustainable than giving our content away for free.”19 Though this would seem to be an economical-ly viable model, it is dependent upon the exclusivity of the paper’s content in the online world. Rebekah Brooks, Chief Executive of News International, called the Times’ choice “a crucial step towards making the business of news an economically exciting proposi-tion. We are proud of our journalism and unashamed to say that we believe it has value.”20 This statement assumes a willingness on the part of the reader to pay for quality content, and this assumption is one justi-fication for the Times’ model of charging online. The Standard, on the other hand, assumes that the reader might not be willing to pay and focuses its distribu-tion plan on that contingency. Though the Times is a national daily and reaches a larger audience than the Standard, a comparison of the theories and as-sumptions behind their business models generates an interesting and pertinent debate. Both the Times and the Evening Standard claim that their respective choices represent a trendsetting move that others will follow. It is too early to entirely validate either side of this claim, but there are some preliminary indications of how each model is faring.

Since its switch to a free newspaper model, the Standard has seen increases in both circulation and advertising, and early reactions indicate some mea-sure of success. Mark Banham calls the Standard’s transformation “a media success story,” and the “newspaper success story of the year,” pointing out that it took about 18 months for the Standard to go from being a paid for newspaper that was los-ing about L20 million a year to being a near profit freesheet.21 In October 2010, the Standard raised its circulation by another 100,000 copies, a further in-dication of the initial success of the freesheet.22 The Guardian reports that the Standard now has an audi-ence of about 1.4 million, and that, where the paper used to sell about 1,600 copies at the Oxford Circus Tube stop; it can now distribute about 20,000.23 These numbers seem to indicate that the Standard’s attempt to broaden its scope has succeeded in some capacity; being a freesheet has increased its availability and presence in the city. Faced with the rise of the Inter-net, the Standard chose to both develop a website and to reinvent the more traditional print business model. Though the move met with much skepticism,

19 “Frequently Asked Questions” 20 Alexi Mostrous and Francesca Steele, “The Times and The Sunday Times to charge for use of websites from June,” The Times. 27 March 2010 http://business.timeson-line.co.uk/tol/business/industry_sectors/media/arti-cle7076987.ece21 Banham, 1722 Banham, 1723 Peter Preston, “Evening Standard almost in profit af-ter going free,” guardian.co.uk. 13 June 2010, http://www.guardian.co.uk/media/2010/jun/13/peter-preston-eve-ning-standard-free


some contend, “the power of old fashioned print ad-vertising has moved [the Standard] to the brink of profitability.”24 Despite the unorthodoxy, the Stan-dard’s methods appear to be meeting with success and certainly present an intriguing reinterpretation of the traditional news business model.

The short-term success of the Times’ online sub-scription model has been less definitive, though it is still too early to delineate complete success or fail-ure. A few months into its paywall experiment, the paper reported 105,000 new paying subscribers and 100,000 who had previously subscribed to the print newspaper.25 However, the website also suffered a 62 percent drop in readership, losing about 4 million readers.26 Additionally, page views fell by about 90 percent, from 41 million in May 2010 to 4 million in September 2010.27 The paywall on the Times web-site appears to have deterred many consumers, and it remains to be seen if the model can make up for the costs of this decreased online readership. While charging for content online may be a viable option, it is still a fledgling concept that is open to negotiation. Jack Herbert and Neil Thurman write that “there is some consensus that most online newspapers have yet to find a business strategy with which they are completely comfortable,” and this lack of certainty leads to a somewhat experimental approach.28 In its preliminary stages, the business model of the Times appears to have met with less success than that of the Evening Standard, but it is much too early to make any long-term ruling.

Advertising has traditionally been a corner-stone of newspaper success, and, at least for now, the broader appeal of the Standard’s free distribu-tion model appears to have created a more lucrative advertising market than the paid-for content of the Times’ websites. The Standard’s decision to go free seems to have lured many advertisers back to what had been a struggling paper. Banham’s article re-ports that after switching to a free model, the Stan-dard “recorded significant volume growth through advertisers coming back.”29 Mullins recounts, “ad-vertisers that haven’t been in the Standard for weeks, months, years, are coming back” and points out, “you can’t avoid the fact that Londoners on their way home read the Standard and that’s what adver-

24 Preston, “Evening Standard almost in profit after go-ing free”.25 Erick Schonfeld, “The Times UK Lost 4 Million Read-ers to its Paywall Experiment” techcrunch.com. 2 November 2010, http://techcrunch.com/2010/11/02/times-paywall-4-million-readers/26 Schonfeld.27 Schonfeld.28 Herbert and Thurman, 210.29 Banham, 17.

tisers want to hear.”30 In choosing a free distribution model, the Standard greatly increased the readership and visibility of the paper, making it a more lucrative product for advertisers.

On the other hand, the Times’ strategy does not appeal to as large of a market and thus does not at-tract as much attention for advertising. In fact, Her-bert and Thurman describe a trade-off between con-tent charging and advertising revenues, since content charging inherently limits the number of users who see a page.31 One question remaining with the online charging model is if subscription revenues will make up for revenues lost in advertising. Erik Schonfeld writes, “The number of loyal readers willing to pay for on online subscription to the Times will peak eventually if it has not already. Once it does, where will the Times go from there?”32 It is certainly a ques-tion worth considering. In putting a paywall around its online content, the Times has limited the number of views its site gets, and has therefore made itself vulnerable to losing advertisers looking to reach the widest range of consumers. The Standard, on the oth-er hand, is put in the hands of more people because it has taken down its barriers instead of adding new ones, and this makes it more lucrative to advertisers hoping to access the average Londoner.

Early readership and advertising responses do not appear to favor the Times’ online business model, and one reason for this could be the dominant con-ception of the Internet as a free medium. In order to characterize the decline in online readership sur-rounding the Times’ change, it is necessary to look at the expectations surrounding the medium of the Internet, where there is a “general consensus among surfers that ‘content is free.”33 The first few years of the Internet were characterized by the assump-tion that the web allowed free access to content that might have otherwise been charged for,34and that be-lief does not appear to have significantly diminished. This expectation of free and readily available content is one obstacle for companies like the Times, which are seeking to price online content. As the BBC points out, charging for online content “may alienate read-ers who have become used to free content and deter advertisers,”35 especially since, with the wide variety of information on the web, audiences “do not need to be as loyal to a particular content provider.”36 The In-ternet has created a proliferation of free news, and as such, has generated significant competition for more 30 Banham, 17. 31 Herbert and Thurman, 212.32 Schonfeld.33 Koen Pauwels and Allen Weiss, “Moving from Fee to Free,” Journal of Marketing, May 2008,14.34 P. David Marshall, New Media Cultures, New York, Ox-ford UP, 2004, 4935 BBC News, “Murdoch signals end of free news,” 6 Au-gust 2009, http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/business/8186701.stm36 BBC News, “Murdoch signals end of free news.”


traditional, paid subscription models. The Times at-tempts to impose this older business model within the new expectations of the Internet, a transposition that Jeff Jarvis argues is “simply insane.”37 Though Jarvis’ opinion might be extreme, charging for news in a medium with expectations of free content could alienate potential readers and drive current readers to sites that are free of charge. The rise of the Inter-net has led to some changes in public expectations of news outlets, and the exclusivity of the Times model could be problematic in a medium that tends to focus more on wide-ranging accessibility.

Faced with the reality of broad choices on the web, the Times chose to rely on what it saw as the ex-clusive quality of its content, hoping that consumers would pay for content perceived to be above the rest of the free web. In an interview with the BBC, Ru-pert Murdoch explained that, in order to retain read-ers, the online paper would strive to make content “better and differentiate it from other people.”38 The Times promoted the enhanced reader experience on its sites, aimed at generating “a growing base of loyal customers that are committed and engaged with our titles.”39 Even with expectations of a free web, the Times is hoping that “the price of fee content signals a higher quality to a (potential) subscriber.”40 How-ever, the numbers show that 66 percent of consumers did not see enough reason to pay for the site, sug-gesting that they view free content as an equal al-ternative to paying for more exclusive content. The Times’ claim to elite and exclusive journalism does not appear to be as relevant within the medium of the Internet, an environment of choice that may be less conducive to the dominance of old media institu-tions. The Internet provides “a greater search qual-ity for information and news by users,” and allows consumers to be “less dependent on one source and become more comfortable in finding information rather than it being provided.”41 In trying to imple-ment an old media business model within a new me-dium, the Times might have underestimated changes in consumer expectations and behavior. The web has engendered expectations of free information, and the business model of The Evening Standard seems more suited for success in that environment.

Free printed newspapers might be a more in-viting news medium in a culture with shifting ex-pectations about free content and open sources of

37 Jeff Jarvis, “Rupert Murdoch’s pathetic paywall,” guardian.co.uk, 26 March 2010 http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2010/mar/26/rupert-murdoch-pathetic-paywall38 BBC News, “Murdoch signals end of free news.” 39 Mercedes Bunz, “Times and Sunday Times websites to start charging from June,” guardian.co.uk, 26 March 2010, http://www.guardian.co.uk/media/2010/mar/26/times-website-paywall40 Paulwels and Weiss, 16.41 Marshall, 51.

information. Free newspapers have seen growth in the recent years; Bakker cites sixty free newspapers worldwide with more than 20 million people read-ing these papers.42 Free newspapers, he claims, “are here to stay.”43 In an age where the Internet has cre-ated expectations of free content, the free newspaper adheres to the format of an older medium while also meeting that expectation. In certain markets, as prov-en by the Evening Standard, the free paper could be a viable option for change. Bakker writes, “The suc-cess of free papers is the result of their efficient cost structure and their ability to reach a new and rela-tively young audience.”44 Free papers provide news with no cost and great convenience to consumers, and as such, seem to have more success in luring an elusive audience of young professionals. Though many have argued that the physical newspaper is becoming obsolete, free newspapers could be one counterargument to that position. Such a transforma-tion, if it does come, cannot happen overnight, and, meanwhile, free newspapers could act as a viable alternative, or at least a valuable transition tool. By attracting a new, young readership and proving to be fiscally successful in metropolitan areas like London, free sheets have asserted a place in the discussion of modern media.

That discussion must not exclusively focus on lit-eral business models, but must also take into account the effects these new business models will have on the role of media within society. Traditionally, media have played an important role in the development of a robust public sphere, and even in shifting worlds of new media, it is important to consider the impact of evolving media on the quality of the public sphere. The traditional idea of the public sphere is often credited to Jurgen Habermas, who defined it as “a realm of our social life where something approaching public opinion can be formed” and where “access is guaranteed to all citizens.”45 Habermas’ definition of a robust public sphere relied on media communica-tions like newspapers to inform and enable rational debate among citizens, and thus to enforce the me-dia’s role as a watchdog for the democratic state. This concept of the public sphere is still prevalent in dis-cussions of modern media, where “the internet has been heralded as a place for a new transformation of the public sphere.”46 As media evolves with the Internet, its role in the public sphere is consistently renegotiated, and the business choices of Evening Standard and the Times each have implications for modern interpretations of the traditional Haberma-sian public sphere.

42 Bakker, 180.43 Bakker, 186.44 Bakker, 180.45 Jurgen Habermas, “The Public Sphere,” New Ger-man Critique, Autumn 1974, 49 http://www.jstor.org/stable/487737.46 Marshall, 53.


The contrary philosophies of the Standard and the Times and their impacts on the robustness of the public sphere are coded into their differing mecha-nisms of distribution. The form of each paper “struc-tures and expresses the environment” and that en-vironment can “represent something larger: the world at large, its economics, politics, sociality, and emotion.”47 The business models of the Standard and the Times create physical networks of distribution that imply differing social and political messages. The Standard is distributed in a more public environ-ment; for the most part it is given out and consumed in public spaces, such as the London Underground. Additionally, it is free of cost and is thus inherently more available to a wider range of society. The Times model of charging online, on the other hand, implies more private, exclusive consumption - news read in more individual portals by an audience limited by subscription fees. The Evening Standard would seem to fit more the traditional Habermasian model of the public sphere in that it is consumed in a more public setting, with no restriction on who can access its in-formation.

On the other hand, the Times model seems to lend itself to a more exclusive environment, and perhaps a more limited public sphere. The website, while it does provide forums for discussion, is more suited to individual consumption in private spaces. Though the Internet as a whole has been heralded as a cham-pion of the public sphere, the charging model of the Times website somewhat undermines this praise be-cause it puts a price on information and limits read-ership in an environment that is otherwise free and open. Barnhurst and Nerone write, “The modern newspaper brought all readers together in the same common space, but a Web edition directs them all to discrete rooms. A reader with an interest in sports need never glance at a public affairs story along the way.”48 Someone desiring to read a particular article in the Standard must at least flip past its other ar-ticles to get there. On the other hand, a Times online user need only click on the particular article he or she would like to access. In some sense, the traditional variety and debate of typical newspapers has been removed. Barnhurst and Nerone point out, “If the metropolitan daily encouraged a common space of general knowledge, then the Web encourages nar-rower spaces of specialized knowledge.”49 Though the concept of the public sphere is also in flux with transitions to new technology, the business model of the Standard appears to fit more with the traditional model of a robust and diverse public sphere, a merit worth noting in an age increasingly worried about the consequences of the web.

47 Kevin G. Barnhurst and John Nerone, The Form of News: A History, New York, The Guilford Press, 2001, 48 Barnhurst and Nerone, 290.49 Barnhurst and Nerone, 291.

Media outlets are functions of the society they represent, and, as these two different media phi-losophies vie to represent London, it is important to consider which model could best reflect and serve the city. It is worth noting that London has consis-tently chosen to open itself up, to be inclusive, even to be free. For example, in the face of pressing budget concerns, the British government considered having some museums in London begin charging for admis-sion. However, after much debate, it was decided that these museums should remain free, even though

their budgets were cut in other ways.50 Free access could in many ways be considered a cultural value of the city. Reacting to the Standard’s decision, Mayor Boris Johnson noted, “The best things in London are free. Free elections, free museums, free healthcare.”51

Additionally, poet Andrew Motion said, “London has always been the great city of free spirits and free thoughts, and it is full of free pleasures as well- free museums, free libraries, free parks, all overlooked by free-to-walk-in Hampstead Heath.”52 Rather obvi-ous propaganda aside, the message is worth noting. London is a vibrant city that is proud of its public life and inclusive in its glorious diversity- should its newspaper not reflect that feeling? It is a question worth thinking about as each of these media institu-tions continues to develop its new business model. Though London is a unique market and not a uni-versal template for world media,53 the two differing approaches of the Standard and the Times present an intriguing contrast and a productive debate as media continue to adapt to changing technology.

The rise of the Internet has generated great anxiety about the future of newspapers, and both the Stan-dard and the Times have made bold changes in an effort to assure the future of their papers. This small story is one chapter in the constant rise and fall of old and new media, a chapter in which Standard and the Times have taken on leading roles. Like the city that they represent, these papers have proved themselves to be bold, innovative, and daring. Could London, like it is at so many things, be at the foreground of this rising media debate? Could this energetic and ever-changing city lead the way in re-imagining me-dia? It is certainly a possibility, that, just as it always has, this dynamic city will make an indelible impact and set a bold precedent for others around the world to follow.

50 Louise Jury. “Museums to stay free in arts and heritage cutbacks,” www.thislondon.co.uk, October 20, 2010, http://www.thisislondon.co.uk/standard/article-23889882-muse-ums-to-stay-free-in-arts-and-heritage-cutbacks.do51 Geordie Greig, “Finding a copy of your free Evening Standard,” www.thisislondon.co.uk 4 January 2010, http://www.thisislondon.co.uk/standard/article-23755375-eve-ning-standard-goes-free.do52 51 Greig.53 Peter Preston, “Evening Standard almost in profit after going free”.


Works Cited1. Alexi Mostrous and Francesca Steele, “The Times

and The Sunday Times to charge for use of websites from June.” The Times. 27 March 2010 http://business.timesonline.co.uk/tol/busi-ness/industry_sectors/media/article7076987.ece

2. Banham, Mark. “How the Standard’s making money now it’s free.” Campaign. Haymarket Business Publications Ltd. 25 June 2010. Issue 25.

3. BBC News. “Murdoch signals end of free news.” 6 August 2009. http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/busi-ness/8186701.stm

4. Bunz, Mercedes. “Times and Sunday Times web-sites to start charging from June.” guardian.co.uk. 26 March 2010. http://www.guardian.co.uk/me-dia/2010/mar/26/times-website-paywall

5. Franklin, Bob. “The Future of Newspapers.” Journalism Studies. October 2008. Vol. 9. Is. 5.

6. “Frequently Asked Questions” http://www.timesplus.co.uk/welcome/tp_faq_pg.htm

7. Greig, Geordie. “Finding a copy of your free Evening Standard.” www.thisislondon.co.uk. 4 January 2010. http://www.thisislondon.co.uk/standard/article-23755375-evening-standard-goes-free.do

8. Habermas, Jurgen. “The Public Sphere.” New German Critique. No. 3. (Autumn 1974). http://www.jstor.org/stable/487737.

9. Jack Herbert and Neil Thurman, “Paid Content Strategies for News Websites.” Journalism Prac-tice. May 2007, Vol. 1 Issue 2.

10. Jarvis, Jeff. “Rupert Murdoch’s pathetic paywall.” guardian.co.uk. 26 March 2010 http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2010/mar/26/rupert-murdoch-pathetic-paywall

11. Jury, Louise. “Museums to stay free in arts and heritage cutbacks.” www.thislondon.co.uk. Oc-tober 20, 2010. http://www.thisislondon.co.uk/standard/article-23889882-museums-to-stay-free-in-arts-and-heritage-cutbacks.do

12. Kevin G. Barnhurst and John Nerone, The Form of News: A History. New York, The Guilford Press, 2001.

13. Koen Pauwels and Allen Weiss. “Moving from Fee to Free.” Journal of Marketing. May 2008 Vol. 72 Is. 3.

14. Marshall, P. David, New Media Cultures. New York, Oxford UP, 2004.

15. Preston, Peter. “Evening Standard almost in profit after going free.” guardian.co.uk. 13 June 2010. http://www.guardian.co.uk/media/2010/jun/13/peter-preston-evening-standard-free

16. Preston, Peter. “The Curse of Introversion.” Jour-nalism Studies; October 2008, Vol. 9 Is. 5.

17. Sabbagh, Dan. “London Evening Standard to become freesheet.” The Times. 3 October 2009. http://business.timesonline.co.uk/tol/busi-ness/industry_sectors/media/article6858274.ece

18. Schonfeld, Erick. “The Times UK Lost 4 Million Readers to its Paywall Experiment.” techcrunch.com. 2 November 2010. http://techcrunch.com/2010/11/02/times-paywall-4-million-read-ers/

19. Sweeney, Mark. “London Evening Standard to go free.” The Guardian. 2 October 2009. http://www.guardian.co.uk/media/2009/oct/02/lon-don-evening-standard-free


thE rolE of graCE and shaME in PostWar JaPanEsE attitudEs and historiCal BlaME

Simon Svirnovskiy

While there has been a great deal of scholarship and discussion over German guilt and respon-

sibility for World War II and the Holocaust, there has been surprisingly little interest in analyzing Ameri-can guilt or responsibility after the atomic bombings. While the allied powers quickly moved to assign near-exclusive blame to Germany after the war, the Japanese government has taken almost no diplomatic action against the United States. Simply put, there is comparatively very little international outrage re-garding American use of the atomic bomb.

After the war, the United States maintained occu-pation forces in Japan and, in effect, ruled the country until 1952. During this time, America instituted strict censorship and limited public discussion policies. These repressive protocols stunted the Japanese abil-ity to grieve and potentially overcome the bombings. This, in turn, led the Japanese people to an inward re-sentment at their political leaders, which exacerbated the military “shame” culture and led to a national “shame” culture. The people were forced to ‘ignore’ the atomic bombings and move past them without discussion.

After censorship restrictions were lifted, how-ever, Japanese citizens were finally allowed to pub-licly mourn, express their grief, and move past the horrific events they endured. Shame could now give way to grace as citizens could turn to one another to overcome the devastation of August 1945. Indeed,

Simon Yakov Svirnovskiy is a 3rd year from St. Louis, Missouri, majoring in Sociology and Political Philosophy, Policy & Law. Simon produced this paper for Professor Jeffrey Olick’s “Trauma, Atrocity and Responsibility” seminar. He has sung with the Virginia Gentlemen since his first year and has also served as founder and president of ONE at UVA. Simon would like to thank Professor Olick for spurring his interest in this topic and for his mentoring during research. This summer Simon will be working in Consulting and hopes to pursue a legal education in the future.

While Germany has borne the brunt of war guilt after the First and second World Wars, there is surprisingly little ‘guilt’ levied on America by the Japanese, considering the dev-astating impact of the Atomic Bombs. After the war, American censorship strict discus-sion policies stunted the Japanese ability to grieve and get past or overcome the bomb-ings. this led to an inward resentment at Japanese political leaders, which exacerbated the military “shame” culture and led to a national “shame” culture that was adapting to be-ing forced to ‘ignore’ the atomic bombings and forced to move past it without discussion.However, after censorship restrictions were lifted, Japan was able to publicly grieve and move past the horrific events. Shame could now give way to grace as the public could turn to one another get past the event. Indeed, Americans were lucky to ease censorship restric-tions when they did otherwise they could’ve faced the point where inward shame turns to collective resentment of the censor. When they did ease censorship, the Japanese had not only the previous atomic bombings to cope with, but also the palpable threat of an-other nuclear war. Thus, they turned their collective grief and anger into fighting nuclear development in general instead of the country that used nuclear weapons against them.


Americans were lucky to ease censorship restrictions in 1952 because the occupiers could have faced the point where inward shame turned into collective resentment of the censor. When Americans did ease censorship, the Japanese turned their collectivegrief and anger towards fighting nuclear development in general, rather than at the nation that had actually used nuclear weapons against them.

Japan – aggressor or ViCtim?After the war’s conclusion, American policymak-

ers needed to determine whether to treat Japan as global aggressor or victim. Japanese treatment, like the use of the bomb itself, would be a move of politi-cal strategy. Indeed, the Soviets were constantly con-sidered in the rational calculus that the United States government used to justify the bombings. The bomb was a ‘card,’ as Secretary of War, Henry L. Stimson noted, to be played against the Soviets at the most strategic moment.1

If Japan was “aggressor”, then the bombing could be justified for ending the “Good War”. The American narrative has run with this identity as we remember that the bombs were the final blow against an aggres-sive and savage foe, which had dragged out World War II long after it should have ended. President Harry Truman, in a nationwide radio report, stated that, “Having found the bomb we have used it… in order to save the lives of thousands and thousands of young Americans.”2 American public opinion at the time also overwhelmingly favored the use of the bomb. Eugene Rabinowitch, editor of the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientist, noted that, “With few exceptions, public opinion rejoiced over Hiroshima and Naga-saki as demonstrations of American technical inge-nuity and military ascendance.”3A Fortune magazine poll taken in late 1945 found that only 5 percent of respondents opposed the atomic bombings, while a significant minority would have dropped even more bombs on the Japanese.4 Even sixty years later the United States Senate unanimously passed a resolu-tion in response to the Enola Gay museum contro-versy, which declared that the nuclear bombing of the two Japanese cities was “merciful” and stressed the

1 Dower, John W. “Three Narratives of our Humanity.” In Linenthal, Edward T. and Tom Engelhardt eds., History Wars: The Enola Gay and other Battles for the American Past. Metropolitan Books. New York. 1996. p. 82.2 Clemens, Cyril ed., Truman Speaks (1946; reprint, New York, 1969), 69. As cited in Bix, Herbert P., “Japan’s Delayed Surrender.” In Hogan, Michael J. ed., Hiroshima in History and Memory. Cambridge University Press. Cambridge. 1996.3 Rabinowitch, Eugene. “Then Years That Changed the World.” Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists. Vol. 12. January 1956. p. 2. As cited in Boyer, Paul. “Exotic Resonances.” In Hogan, Hiroshima in History and Memory. p. 145.4 “The Fortune Survey,” Fortune, December 1945, p. 305. As cited in Boyer, Paul. “Exotic Resonances.” In Hogan, Hi-roshima in History and Memory. p. 145.

role that the Enola Gay (the bomber that dropped the bomb on Hiroshima) played in saving American and Japanese lives.5

There is certainly truth to the claim that the atom-ic bomb saved American lives. The United States military wanted to avoid the proposed Kyushu in-vasion, which was scheduled for November 1, 1945, and would be, by most estimates, the deadliest battle in the war.6 However, the bombings, with 200,000 estimated casualties7, undoubtedly took more Japa-nese victims than the Kyushu fighting ever could.Additionally, the major difference was regarding who would have to face the brunt of the casualties – enlisted fighting men in combat, or civilians in their homes, offices and schools?

More than anything else, the days of August 6 (Hiroshima) and August 9, 1945 (Nagasaki) epito-mized the ambiguous identities of victims and vic-timizers as the allies attempted to win the “good war” by bombing civilians.8 In 1938 the United States had publicly condemned the, “inhuman bombing of civilian populations,” but by 1945, the American military had proceeded to firebomb Dresden and To-kyo, and atomically level Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Yet, surprisingly, almost no one ever seriously chal-lenged this practice on moral grounds.9 Paul Boyer, agrees, pointing out that, “the atomic bombing was only the culminating act of a never wholly effective ethical barrier.”10 In the modern age, there was first the razing of Atlanta by William Sherman’s soldiers in the American Civil War. Then the German armies used nerve gas on enemy soldiers in World War I. From there, firebombing and, later, atomic bombing seemed to be logical progressions. Interestingly, the Manhattan project scientists who were charged with developing the American nuclear program actually sped up their work after Germany was defeated in April of 1945; they were worried that the war would end before their contribution could be used.11 There was no strong desire to avoid combat use of the bomb from anyone in a position of influence and, thus, the people of Hiroshima and Nagasaki were doomed to their fate, forever to be footnotes in the history of movable wartime ethics.

5 Dower. “Three Narratives.” p. 73.6 Bernstein, Barton J. “Understanding the Atomic Bomb.” In Hogan, Hiroshima in History and Memory. p. 65.7 “The Atomic Bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki; Chapter 10 – Casualties.” The Avalon Project – Documents in Law, History and Diplomacy. The Lillian Goldman Law Library. Yale Law School. http://avalon.law.yale.edu/20th_century/mp10.asp 8 Dower, “Three Narratives.” p. 719 Ibid, p. 95.10 Boyer, Paul. “Whose History is it Anyway?” In. Li-nethal and Engelhardt, History Wars. p. 123.11 Dower, “Three Narratives.” p. 82.


Japanese shameHistorian John Dower points out that Japan has

had a unique relationship to the ‘narrative of victim-ization’. Their soldiers killed many millions, civilians included, but they were the only people to face nucle-ar destruction.12 Today the Hiroshima Peace Museum contains almost no mentions of anything before Au-gust 6, 1945, save for an exhibit about the city of Hiro-shima as it was before the bomb was dropped. There is no mention of the Rape of Nanking, no mention of Pearl Harbor or any other pre-war events by the Japanese. The museum exclusively plays up the ‘vic-tim’ status of Japan.13 While it was certainly intended, first and foremost, as a monument to the bombing victims and as a forum to combat all nuclear weap-ons, one would also expect more historical balance out of a museum in order to tell the most accurate picture possible. Japan has also faced controversy in acknowledging their treatment of Korean Prisoners of War. Indeed, the Japanese government ended up paying war reparations to the Republic of Korea and also to Burma, Indonesia, the Philippines and South Vietnam in the 1960s.14

Only the Emperor’s death in 1989 allowed for a more critical engagement with past events. Discus-sion of the war and Japan’s wartime responsibility were taboo under Hirohito’s long rule.15 Interestingly, the emperor was more or less absolved from prosecu-tion and was allowed to stay in his post with most of his privileges because this made it easier for the Unit-ed States to administer Japan after the war.16 Part of this absolution may come from the US government’s interpretation of Hirohito’s role in the war. He was seen as a figurehead who wielded symbolic but not actual power; an individual occupying a historical position that had little real say in Japan’s militaris-tic government. Barton J. Bernstein, however, argues that only the bomb was finally able to convince the emperor to push his government for peace in August 1945. Without Hirohito’s precedent-breaking inter-cession directly into the military discussions, the mil-itarists in the Japanese government would have like-ly pushed onward and fallen only in Kyushu.17 Still, the emperor was tasked with ending the war but, in this process, he could not disavow Japan’s war aims or acknowledge the nation’s war atrocities. He, thus, tried to absolve himself of blame by painting himself as the ultimate victim. In his surrender address to the Japanese people, Emperor Hirohito cried out: “My

12 Ibid, p. 65.13 Hiroshima Peace Museum Outline. http://www.pcf.city.hiroshima.jp/outline/outlineTop_E.html14 Tachibana, Seiitsu. “The Quest for a Peace Culture: The a-bomb Survivors’ Long Struggle and the New Movement for Redressing Foreign Victims of Japan’s War.” In Hogan, Hiroshima in History and Memory. p. 171.15 Dower, “Three Narratives.” p. 67.16 Ibid, p. 68.17 Bernstein, pp. 67, 72.

vital organs are torn asunder!” He transformed the people’s sacrifices into his own agony.18 The emperor navigated the thin line between accepting practical defeat while not admitting ideological failure.

Bernstein focuses on this military stubbornness that the American government thought was handi-capping the Emperor’s actions. “I was unable to keep the military from insisting they were not beaten,” said Foreign Minister Shigenori Togo in July 1945. The Japanese Army knew they could not win but they believed they could still ward off an invasion of their homeland. Togo recalled that, “army chief of staff, General Korechika Anami, replied that, ‘if we were lucky, we could repulse the invaders before they landed’, but that was all he could say with as-surance as that we could destroy the major part of the invading army.”19 With the continued American demands for unconditional surrender, the Japanese decided on the “Ketsu-Go” war strategy, which relied heavily on suicide tactics. Japanese military leaders were prepared, quite literally, to fight to the death.20

In response, Herbert Bix argues that Hirohito was not at all blameless and that his reluctance to accept impending defeat and his refusal to act to end hostili-ties before August 6 certainly contributed to the use of the bomb. Bix contends that it was the Emperor who steered Japan toward continued warfare in his name.21 Indeed, by the time Hirohito may have real-ized that victory was impossible, he had already in-vested too much of his personal credibility into the militarist strategy and he could not give that away. Bix does agree with Bernstein that the Emperor was an opportunist of the bomb. The use of the bomb was the event that gave Japanese leaders the excuse, in their mind, to end the war.22 Otherwise, the Japanese would have had to quit the war because of growing domestic pressures. The bombs were a ‘saving-face’ that allowed the leaders, at least for that moment in history, avoid shame. President Truman’s staff agreed, writing that, “The American officers now in Tokyo [October 1945, just after surrender] are amazed by the fact that resistance continued as long as it did,” and that the atomic bombs, “while seized upon by the Japanese as an excuse for getting out of the war,

18 Dower, John W. Embracing Defeat – Japan in the Wake of World War II. W. W. Norton & Company, Inc. New York. 1999. p. 36.19 “Statements” of Togo #50304, As cited in Bernstein, “Understanding the Atomic Bomb.” In Hogan, “Hiroshima in History and Memory.” p. 53.20 Bix, Herbert P. “Japan’s Delayed Surrender: A Reinter-pretation.” In Hogan, “Hiroshima in History and Memory.” p. 101.21 Ibid, p. 112.22 Ibid, p. 107.


actually speeded surrender by only a few days.”23 Surrender, in itself, spelled doom to most Japanese Patriots because, as Dower notes, “a country that had celebrated its mythic ‘2,600-year anniversary’ in 1940, and prided itself on never having been invaded, was about to be inundated by white men.”24

Tom Engelhardt wrote of a ‘Culture of Defeat’ that had been cultivating in Japan throughout the latter half of the war. Interviews just after war’s end showed the people letting out deeply repressed but devastating emotions.25 For the Japanese, their year of victories spanned from 1941- 1942 but after the war it was almost forgotten and was replaced, instead, by the overwhelming defeats that came later. Even in December 1941 after the Pearl Harbor attacks, Ameri-cans were optimistic that their industrial nation could win any battle. The Japanese, however, faced a “des-perate self doubt.”26 As the war continued, this self-doubt was reinforced, first with the news of military losses elsewhere in the South Pacific, and then most dramatically when the American Air Force brought the war to cities on the Japanese mainland. Still, dur-ing the war, it remained taboo to speak about the problem of peace even if the Japanese people wanted it. The incendiary bombing of Tokyo in 1945 was crushing enough, but when all of that destructive power was compressed into a single bomb carried by a single plane, the defeat was too devastating to even comprehend. As the country began to come to grips with the scale of the destruction, the people started to violate taboos and question their own government.

Seiitsu Tachibana notes that in the years follow-ing their defeat in World War II, Japanese people saw themselves as victims, not just of the allied war, but also of the militarism of their own govern-ment.27 Soldiers who had left their homes with the support and love of everyone in their neighborhood returned home to shocked and unwelcoming societ-ies. The soldiers came back with the memories of a stubborn and unforgiving military hierarchy. Dower notes that superior officers commanded fear and not respect from their units, and defeat unleashed deep and previously repressed resentments. Indeed, many soldiers came home wishing not to take an enemy but, “one of their officers as a souvenir.”28 Shame also came with the knowledge of Japan’s true military inadequacy, and understanding just how seriously

23 Locke, Edwin A. Jr., memorandum for the president, October 19, 1945, Box 182, President’s Secretary File, Papers of Harry S. Truman, Truman Library, Independence, Mo. As cited in Dower, “Embracing Defeat.” p. 44.24 Dower, “Embracing Defeat.” p. 43.25 Engelhardt, Tom. “The Victors and the Vanquished.” In Linenthal and Engelhardt eds. History Wars. p. 224.26 Ibid, p. 225-6.27 Tachibana, p. 168.28 Dower, “Embracing Defeat.” p. 59.

the people were duped by their military leaders. The bombs were a symbol of America’s material might and scientific progress and, in contrast, the Japanese were encouraged to fight with their bamboo spears and their lives.29 The Japanese singled out a deficien-cy in their scientific development as the reason for their loss and suffering in the war. Japan had lost not to the enemy, but to the ‘enemy’s science.’ In turn,the Japanese fueled their frustration with their scientific deficiency into efforts to invest in scientific capital, which was, in turn, responsible for the Japanese eco-nomic boom of the 1980s.

One final area of shame is seen in Japanese reflec-tion over their treatment of the hibakusha, the victims of the atomic bombings. American occupiers imme-diately enacted a policy prohibiting hibakusha from seeking financial compensation from the US, but this isolation was compounded by strict ostracism within Japan itself. This is because psychologically, if not physically, the hibakusha were, “deformed reminders of a miserable past.”30 Most Japanese were too busy and already weary enough, and simply preferred to put the hibakusha out of their minds. Dower argues that some of this can be attributed to the enduring guilt of survivors who, either willing or out of sheer inability, could not honor the last requests of the dy-ing hibakusha around them.31

The immediate government reaction after the bombings was swift and praiseworthy. As stipulated by the Wartime Casualties Care Law, the rescue and relief efforts that began just after the bombing con-tinued for exactly two months. In this time, 105,682 people were taken in at relief stations and 210,048 were treated as outpatients. When the relief stations closed, however, after two months, people had to pay for their own care. Those who couldn’t pay were put under the responsibility of their cities or villages.32 After their two months were up, atomic bomb sur-vivors received no special treatment, leaving them covered only by the general welfare system. Many survivors built huts from burn wreckage and were forced to live in desperate conditions because of the constant lack of resources. In addition to the acute ef-fects that appeared immediately after the bombing, the nuclear radiation caused a multitude of long-term health problems. A high percentages of sur-vivors developed leukemia and other cancers. The Peace Museum remarks that, “Because the effects of radiation remain obscure even today, survivors con-

29 Dower, John W. “The Bombed: Hiroshimas and Naga-sakis in Japanese Memory.” In Hogan ed., “Hiroshima in History and Memory.” p. 120-1.30 Ibid, p. 128. 31 Ibid, p. 133.32 Hiroshima Peace Museum Website. The Second Spe-cial Exhibition of FY 2002: Hiroshima Testimony – The City Obliterated, the Aftermath. http://www.pcf.city.hiroshima.jp/virtual/VirtualMuseum_e/exhibit_e/exhi_fra_e.html


tinually fear for their health.”33 Still, facing a lack of government aid and treatment, bombing survivors had to unite and stand up for themselves. In 1951 the Hiroshima Atomic Bomb Victims Rehabilitation Soci-ety was formed to provide a forum for discussion of the problems that hibakusha faced and to help them collectively improve their living conditions. How-ever, these forums were strictly grassroots based and were rarely sponsored or even acknowledged under the taboos of post-war Japan.

While the seeds of self-doubt were sown as the war turned against them, Japanese shame was cer-tainly exacerbated by American post-war occupa-tion; an occupation that was fundamentally rooted in American’s post-war demands. The United States required unconditional surrender for two reasons. First, Hirohito was vilified in the public eye and the public would demand full surrender. Secondly, Tru-man feared that anything other than a demand for complete and unconditional surrender would em-bolden the Japanese to ask for more lenient grounds. Ending the war in Japan, then, would be an all or nothing proposition.34 One of the major tangible displays of American influence was the censorship imposed starting in September of 1945. The US occu-piers did not allow public mourning, healing or dis-cussion of the bombs for fear that these actions would incite public unrest.35 Local censorship was the most brutal, however, as survivors could not grieve pub-licly and, even worse, psychological traumas could not be diagnosed. The easing of censorship in 1948 let to a minor publishing boom, which spiked again when censorship was completely lifted at the end of American occupation in 1952.36

The transition from public shame to public grace occurred only after American restrictions and censor-ships were eased in occupied Japan. It was as if the public, finally allowed to grieve, could get past their own and their government’s failings for the first time. Engelhardt wrote that Japan, as a nation of victims, formally began on August 6, 1945. This would mark the beginning of a new national identity37 (which is seized upon by the Hiroshima Peace Museum). How-ever, those victims could only move on from their devastating past when they were allowed to mourn it, and get over it on their own terms.

There was, undoubtedly, a massive rift in macro and micro Japan that needed to be addressed. Au-gust 1945 marked a disjuncture in consciousness. “In a humiliated country,” remarks Engelhardt, “there was good reason not to remember the war years.”38 This macro fracturing was also mirrored in individ-ual hibakusha who wrote of a fracturing of identity.

33 Ibid. 34 Bernstein, p. 51.35 Dower, “The Bombed.” p. 117. 36 Ibid, p. 128.37 Engelhardt, p. 228.38 Ibid, p. 228-9.

The break, depending on their home city, occurred on August 6 or August 9, 1945.39 This description is strik-ingly similar to Jean Amery’s description of trauma, noting that the trauma victim lives in the past. He is stuck and cannot move forward. This is how trauma operates – it holds one in its grip and keeps her there, not allowing her to make the past the past. Thus, her natural temporal order is destroyed.40 In post-war Ja-pan, the trauma victims did not just have to deal with their own upset temporality, but also were forced to remain in that state through artificial barriers set by their occupiers.

Japanese graCeGrace does not equate to blind forgiveness, but

forgiveness is certainly part of the process. In April 1993, the Mayor of Hiroshima said that Japan owed the US an apology for Pearl Harbor, and the US owed Japan an apology for the atomic bombs.41 Still, when the Japanese people were turning from shame to grace, their rage bypassed the American victimizers and, instead, turned on the weapon that was used against them. They did so for two reasons.

First, the atomic bombings was so horrific and un-paralleled that many in Japan could not fathom them being a result of human actions. Some thought that the bombings were a natural disaster.42 Other Japa-nese, however, still see themselves as having been chosen, almost in a religious sense, to bear witness to the apocalypse of nuclear war. Recalling the publish-ing boom after the ease of censorship, one of the most popular writers was Takashi Nagai. His view of the bombings was apocalyptically Christian. A young survivor of the Nagasaki bombings who watched his wife die in the blast, Nagai, himself, succumbed to heart failure from leukemia as a result of the bombing in 1951. In the remainder of his life, Nagai wrote that Nagasaki must have been the chosen victim, the lamb of sacrifice, because of its strong Christian tradition. Indeed, when the US military dropped the “Little Boy” atomic bomb, they aimed directly at the Nagasa-ki church in the center of the city. Further supporting the ‘inhumanity’ of the bombs were the sheer images around the survivors. Dower notes that the twisting of traditionally benign symbols gave credence to the super-natural interpretation of the bombings. Mother and infant became the symbol of a broken life bond – mothers attempting to nurse dead babies, or infants nursing at the breast of a dead mother. These images were eerily similar to those of another religious tale, the Buddhist apocalyptic vision, mappo.43

Secondly, because censorship restricted any pub-lic discussion of the bombings until 1948, the Japanese

39 Dower, “The Bombed.” p. 116.40 Amery, Jean. At the Mind’s Limits. 41 Linenthal, Edward T. “Anatomy of a Controversy.” In Linenthal and Engelhardt eds. History Wars. p. 33.42 Dower, “The Bombed.” P. 119.43 Ibid, p. 134.


were only able to confront the atomic horrors three years after the rest of the world. The Japanese public confronted the bomb at the same time that ‘runways were being lengthened’ in Okinawa in preparation for the war with Korea. The Japanese faced the bombs and the most threatening moments of the Cold War at the same time. Dower eloquently wrote that, “they encountered the Cold War, thus, with a deep and per-sonal concern for the human consequences of nuclear weapons that ran beyond the abstract American no-tion of ‘nameless casualties.’”44 By the early 1950s, fears of a nuclear World War III were evident all over Japan and the Japanese remained alarmed at the use of any nuclear weapons. Thus, out of fear of further nuclear disaster, the Japanese seem to have channeled their potential anger with the American aggressors who dropped the bombs into a deep and passionate struggle against nuclear weapons themselves.

Japanese Grace may also, however, come from the uncomfortable realization that the much victim-ized Japanese island was not, itself, without blame. It wasn’t surprising, however, that after the bombings, few Japanese had the energy, imagination or desire to dwell on how many other lives they’d shattered while carrying out the emperor’s holy war.45 Still, while they weren’t prepared to deal with this guilt then, true grace required Japan to acknowledge their misdeeds before taking further action. True grace, indeed, is a very recent phenomenon. The Japanese were glad that Germany assumed, in 1985, full re-sponsibility for its past and that in 1988 the United States admitted its ‘mistake’ in creating internment camps.46 In an effort to bridge their nations’ past his-tories, representatives from Tokyo and Seoul have met every two years to revise and update their his-tory books together.

Slight changes have also been seen in the treat-ment of hibakusha and in their national legacy. From 1945 to 1952, the Japanese government imposed an atomic news blackout to try to prevent any news about the bombings and the hibakusha from getting out to the rest of the world. After blackout was lifted, news of the true situation of Japan’s survivors was made public to the rest of the globe for the first time. In August 1952, the Atomic Bomb Victims Associa-tion formed as a forum for the many people who were looking to proactively collect aid for bombing survivors and rally against the Atomic bomb.47 After a women’s group petition collected 30 million sig-natures, the World Conference against Atomic and Hydrogen bombs was held in Hiroshima in August

44 Ibid, p. 135.45 Dower, “Embracing Defeat.” p. 45.46 Tachibana, p. 173.47 Hiroshima Peace Museum Website. The First Special Exhibition of FY 2007: Help from Overseas – Support for the Survivors and Hope for Rebuilding the City. http://www.pcf.city.hiroshima.jp/virtual/VirtualMuseum_e/exhibit_e/exhi_fra_e.html

1955. At that convention, hibakushua had the oppor-tunity to speak to the world for the first time about their experiences, and other participants from non-bombed cities had their first chance to see the atomic victims.48 In 1957 the national government estab-lished the Atomic Bomb Survivors Medical Care Law, which gave survivors a ‘Survivor Health Book’ that acted as payment from the government cover sur-vivors’ medical costs. However, appeals were made to change the law because lost income due to hospi-talization would not be compensated.49 And in 1980, a report from the state health department rebuked most hibakusha demands, dismissing their claims to a special status by countering that all individuals had to tolerate wartime sacrifices. The report concluded that hibakusha could not seek legal redress because the state could not be charged with its political acts.50

Since then more focus has been put on the efforts to ban nuclear weapons worldwide. This effort has been led by the mayors of Hiroshima and Nagasaki and started as early as 1955 when Nagasaki mayor, Tsutomu Tagawa, said that, “the renunciation of atomic weapons and the condemnation of war by the great scientists made him believe that the dawn of a lasting world peace would be seen in the near future.” Mayor Tagawa was referring to “The Russel-Einstein Manifesto,” which condemned nuclear weapons and was signed by eleven major scientists in London in 1955. Hiroshima Mayor, Shinzo Hamai, regarded the partial nuclear test ban treaty of 1963 as a step toward the total abolition of nuclear weapons. Their succes-sors continued these mayoral calls for worldwide nuclear disarmament and in 1973 Mayor Yamada of Hiroshima issued a condemnation on the countries that used ‘national security’ concerns to justify con-tinued nuclear war preparations tests. Soon after, in 1975, Hiroshima and Nagasaki officially partnered as “peace culture cities.”51

In the 1980s and 90s, the mayors worked toward the recognition and treatment of the hibakusha. They asked the health ministry to enact a relief law based on the principle of state compensation – to give Hi-roshima and Nagasaki more funds to use on their afflicted people. Finally, the mayors have also chal-lenged the Japanese to remember their victimizer past: Nagasaki Mayor Motoshima asked his fellow citizens to, “think deeply about the events from the attack on Pearl Harbor to the destruction of Naga-saki and reflect with sincerity on the war.” He also prayed for the souls of the more than twenty million Japanese and foreign victims of the, “dark chapter in history.”52 He closed his address by asking all of Ja-pan to take moral responsibility for their treatment

48 Tachibana, p. 175.`49 Hiroshima Peace Museum. Help from Overseas Ex-hibition. 50 Tachibana, p. 177.51 Ibid, p. 181.52 Ibid, p. 183-84.


and isolation of the hibakusha. With this request, the mayor asked all Japanese citizens to acknowledge, fully, what the hibakusha had gone through and to help pull the atomic victims out of the their temporal, trauma prisons and into a society that was able and willing to let them move forward on their own terms.

In the Support for the Survivors and Hope for Rebuild-ing the City exhibit in the Hiroshima Peace Museum, there is a great deal of information about American support and relief aid given after the war. One may be stunned, indeed, by the forgiveness that this part of the museum shows and how grateful the exhibit seems for American aid and sympathy. One may be left amazed that there is not more outrage from the Japanese. In fact, the whole museum takes an en-tirely objective tone and there is no anger anywhere. The exhibit even references the “moral adoption” program started by Norman Cousins, which raised $2,000 for 500 children in Hiroshima. While Cousins’ actions were certainly admirable, the whole exhibit sounded amazingly grateful in its tone. At the con-clusion of the exhibit, a small panel summarizes all of Japanese Grace:

“Our planet still bristles with too many nuclear weapons. The danger that a nuclear weapon will be used is actually increasing. Each of us has a more grave responsibility than ever to take another step toward the abolition of nuclear weapons.” 53

There is no resentment at state actors but only at their actions and the weapons they acted with. The Japanese transition from shame to grace, without vengeance as an intermediary step, is the reason that there is not more global outrage against the United States for the use of the atomic bombs.

53 Hiroshima Peace Museum. Help from Overseas Exhi-bition.


thE Myth of thE rEasonaBlE Man:a CritiquE of thE PostulatE of man aS reaSonabLe, and thE

lEgal fiCtion of rationality that saturatEs our JustiCE systEM

Nicole Brown

I question the postulate of man as reasonable by exploring the traditional definitions of reason in lib-eral contract theory, and comparing them to how they can be viewed in light of recent discoveries in moral psychology. though reason is understood to be an objective mode of analysis that posits objective conclusions, the cognitive actuality of applied reasoning is complicated by other emo-tional responses and external stimuli. As a prerequisite to the function of reason, one must take particular normative principles as truths. Because individuals defer to different principles, even pure reason does not itself provide a singular response to a moral dilemma. By juxtaposing moral philosophy’s description of reason against our common legal understanding of “reasonableness”, I find that our expectations of “rationality” do not correlate to any specific system of principles. “thinking rationally,” though it may call us to address a situation with practicality, does not lead us to specific judgments or decisions. Thus to posit the reasonable man as a standard of po-litical behavior, does not elicit any particular expectation of convention or moral responsibility.

“On the road halfway between faith and criticism stands the inn of reason. Reason is faith in what can be understood without faith, but it’s still a faith, since to understand presupposes that there’s something under-standable.”

(176, Book of Disquiet, Fernando Pessoa”)

Nicole Brown is a fourth year Government major attending the University of Virginia. She studies Political Theory and language, specializing in Spanish and Portuguese. Her major inspirations are Fernando Pessoa, a Portuguese exis-tentialist, and James Baldwin, a political theorist. Nicole hopes to continue to write political theory papers and publish works of fiction and theory in the future.


Reason writes in.

Reason writes in like a suicide note in the margins of history.

Thinking it can explicate thousands of years of moving matter,

It proposes a new standard. Asserts a vocabulary of certainty.

Assumes its own indelibility.

In its journey through the minds of man,

It has forgotten that it too is of modern manifest;

A matter.

The red clay stains our books,

Forever indicating a reference point,

referencing the masons of its production.

Born is rationality, collapsing our experience of existence into

moments of decision

Until our consciousness fragments. We are sold the idea that the self

and identity are philosophically congruent.

Born is legitimacy, reducing thought to literature

And intentionally erasing that which can not be described so that

Representation carries more weight than

Even the sensual perception through which we realized our selves.

Reason writes out the irrelevant

Because it creates the relevant.

Reason writes out the meaningless

Because it creates the meaningful.

It writes out God

Because it creates God.

At some juncture in time

A Reason wrote in

(probably in large font)

And no one has yet written back.

Written by the author

Political theory posits the man as reasonable as the foundation of a just and stable society. John

Locke uses this postulate as a point of departure in his explanation of how we exercise moral judgment. Yet many political philosophers since Locke have successfully demonstrated that it is the interplay of intuition, reasoning and various other methods of analysis that influences judgment. Still, we judge cas-es on the basis of the apparent “reasonableness” of behavior. The opinions of the Supreme Court Justices are an ideal demonstration of how judgment need in-corporate various principles, and not solely a defer-ence to objective reason, to resolve a moral dilemma. By rejecting the idea that man is naturally inclined to reasoning as a founding political narrative, we can open our minds to the actual causal determinants of man’s political behavior and imagine a more tolerant justice system.

Considered one of America’s founding political theorists, John Locke was distinguished within the classical liberalist tradition for his doctrine on the

natural rights of man: “The Two Treatises on Govern-ment.” Locke was fervently opposed to authoritari-anism and the fatalistic perspective of human nature that would posit man as innately antagonistic and war as the natural state of affairs. He proposed that all men are born free and rational, and that govern-ment is responsible for uplifting the human person-ality. According to Locke, the proper function of a just state is to enforce the law of rationality. It is to say that reason is so essential to the process of moral judgment that it manifests into universal moral law. (Two Treatises, 102) To this day, obeying a Lockean sense of judicial duty indicates a faith in the moral certainty of the law. The criminal justice system is saturated with the language of “reasonableness,” employed to assess the behaviors of citizens. Some examples of these standards are “reasonable expec-tation of privacy,” “reasonable doubt,” protection against “unreasonable search and seizure,” the re-cent “reasonable woman” standard in cases of sexual assault, and, of course, the classic “reasonable man” standard used in tort law to determine how the typi-cal person ought to behave.

Implicit in the employment of “reasonableness” is the understanding that an average of behaviors defines a normal, thus justifiable, response to cir-cumstance. This would be rather uncontroversial if an objective standard of reason were employed uniformly, and if we deferred to objective reason-ing as our primary recourse in adjudication. Do we judge with the sincere belief that reason has a par-ticular claim towards justice? Or do we base moral judgments on a variety of principal considerations? In order to explore these questions and observe how and where we have institutionalized the postulate of man as reasonable, we should review how Locke, our founding philosopher, defined reason and applied it to social contract theory.

The purpose of extensively examining the tradi-tional definition of reason is so that we can under-stand how reason’s narrative is implied in political affairs. Though the importance of exploring this defi-nition may not be immediately apparent, the inten-tion of this essay is to emphasize how language can criminalize and objectify. Thus, in our exploration of reason, we will see how it acts on the one hand as a faculty and on the other hand as an absolute value. Eventually, we will see in what ways we assume the priority of certain moral criteria in our judgment of man, and how our expectations of human nature are based on the belief of the infallibility of reason.

part i: What is reason?In “An Essay Concerning Human Understand-

ing,” Locke provides us with a basic description of how reason functions psychologically. He later de-scribes what it means to reason with attention to moral dilemmas. In the context of his chapter on


demonstrative knowledge, he describes reason as the response to the following intellectual conflict: “…. when the mind cannot so bring its ideas to-gether as, by their immediate comparison and, as it were, juxtaposition or application one to another, to perceive their agreement or disagreement, it is fain, by the intervention of other ideas (one or more as it happens), to discover the agreement or disagree-ment which it searches; and this is that which we call “reasoning.”(434) Reasoning, by these terms, is both deductive and analogical. The problem being the relation between two ideas, reason determines their agreement or disagreement by creating parallels with similar ideas. Critical to this understanding of reason is the apparent difficulty of determining the relation by the plain juxtaposition of the two original ideas, so that the introduction of external concepts and their relations are necessary elements in resolving the problem. Reflection external to the immediate situa-tion is critical.

Throughout the Second Treatise in which Locke expounds the natural rights of man, the language of reason has a unique application. Unlike in his essay on human understanding where reason is used to contrast intuitive knowledge, Locke discusses reason here as an enlightened propensity of man, his inheri-tance, and his birthright. Reason defines the essential distinction between human and animal. Here he does not flesh out a psychological description of the fac-ulty in action, but posits it as the principal element of freedom and thus a free society: “The freedom then of man, and liberty of acting according to his own will, is grounded on his having reason, which is able to instruct him in that law he is to govern himself by, and make him know how far he is left to the freedom of his own will.”(Two Treatises, 126) We are born free and we are born rational; the two terms being mu-tually codependent whereby the general liberty of humanity is in great measure determined by one’s freedom to exercise reason. (126) More than a deter-minant of man’s proper course, reason is the tool that provides man access to the dictate of his own will, it being unintelligible without the guidance of reason. The man who varies from “the right rule of reason” is literally a degenerate, and is rejecting the principles of his own nature. (104) According to both of Locke’s interpretations of reason, it seems to be essential to both complete an understanding of self and to con-sciously direct one’s actions.

theoretiCal and praCtiCal reasoning The intention of moral philosophy is to answer

questions about value and obligation. In the justice system, especially, we are compelled to respond to significant challenges that question how and where we should apply our values. Reason is thus invoked to respond to these questions and itself determine the application of our values. In the study of moral theory, there is a critical distinction made between

theoretical and practical reasoning, based on the na-ture of the subject matter. Are both typologies of rea-son relevant to making moral judgments? Theoretical reasoning, intends to predict what would occur in a hypothetical situation. Practical reason, by contrast, begins with a normative question of what one should do in a present situation, and is used instrumentally to make a value judgment:

“Theoretical reason…involves reflection with an eye to the truth of propositions, and the reasons for [the] belief in which it deals are considerations that speak in favor of such propositions’ being true, or worthy of acceptance. Practical reason, by contrast, is concerned not with the truth of propositions but with the desirability or value of actions. …This difference in subject matter cor-responds to a further difference between the two forms of reason, in respect of their consequences. Theoretical reflection about what one ought to believe produces changes in one’s overall set of beliefs, whereas practical reason gives rise to ac-tion; as noted above, it is practical not only in its subject matter, but also in its issue.” (Wallace, Practical Reason)

Whilst both forms of reason work to critically an-alyze and produce normative conclusions, the objec-tive of practical reason is to evaluate behavior, while theoretical reason evaluates the belief systems that support behavior. Although the distinction between theoretical and practical reason is a significant point of discussion in the study of moral philosophy, both forms of reasoning, whether regulating ideas or be-haviors, are relevant in our observation of the stan-dards used in the justice system. Both considerations are employed in a thorough analysis of behavior, and a normative standard can be produced by both theo-retical and practical processes of inquiry. Wallace’s essay goes on to suggest that a critical similarity be-tween the two types is that reason, in a general sense, takes on a regulatory position. The difference being the specific system of norms in question, theoretical reason regulates belief while practical reason regu-lates action.

According to Locke’s general definition, reason also involves a speculation that takes place some-what external to the situation at hand. That there be some dispassionate consideration and comparison beyond the basic understanding of the dilemma, is critical. By the comparison alongside preconceived relations, it creates a new understanding and identity for the new object of knowledge:

“… Reason, therefore, never applies directly to experience, or to any sensuous object; its object is, on the contrary, the understanding, to the manifold cognition of which it gives a unity a priori by means of conceptions – a unity which


may be called rational unity, and which is of a nature very different from that of the unity pro-duced by the understanding.” (Human Under-standing, 213)

The key concept here is that reason produces a conception of the object of knowledge, separate from the actual experience with that object. This idea will be revisited when we look at studies showing how judgments are made in consideration of a priori caus-al theories.

logiC: the sCienCe of reasoningThough logic is considered the science of reason-

ing, it is very distinct from the practice of moral rea-soning, which we can intuit from their distinct aca-demic niches. Although what is logical is certainly not the same as what is rational, it is important to un-derstand what veritable mathematical processes rea-soning assumes on the most basic level. For this we should ascertain a basic understanding of different logical functions. Important to remember, however, is that logic, unlike moral reasoning, is not interested in discovering empirical facts. It is only interested in determining truths. It is mathematical in this sense, and when it deals with philosophical matters, it only deals with matters that are not contingent on exter-nal variables. (Joe Lau and Jonathan Chan, What is Logic?)

Logical reasoning has been separated into the fol-lowing types:

Deductive- Deductive reasoning is a top down approach that forms hypotheses from general prin-ciples. The observations that come subsequent to theorizing are then used to confirm previously de-termined theories. Although this sounds a lot like simply rationalizing a preconceived notion, this form of reasoning fits with our common understanding of utilitarian reasoning. Both Locke and Kant refer to the “rational unity” that a priori considerations provide prior to the understanding of the problem at hand.

Inductive- Inductive reasoning is a more explor-atory kind of reasoning which allows one to observe the dilemma and determine a pattern. From these determinations, unmotivated by predictions or pre-conceived notions, a tentative hypothesis and a the-ory are derived. This is considered a bottom-up ap-proach. (William, Deduction & Induction)

The difficulty of using an inductive approach in our moral dilemmas, however, is the problem of the amount of time we have. Although we have all of the time in the world to determine what our reaction would be if we are given a hypothetical situation, we do not immediately have access to a variety of similar circumstances to be able to formulate a response that would encourage a constructive approach. Inductive reasoning allows the nature of the object to speak for it itself, relationships are determined subsequent to this scientific observation.

Although logic is primarily concerned with de-termining objective truths in a mathematical fash-ion, we can imagine that either deductive or induc-tive logic may unintentionally encourage subjective elements in the process of reasoning. Postulates are formed by the juxtaposition of chosen axioms. What is to decide which axioms are relevant to the equa-tion at hand, and interpret and apply the relationship between axioms?

Logicians may not concern themselves with the politics of reasoning as we will, but to understand the physical processes of reasoning is to better un-derstand the psychology of it. We may not agree that either deductive or inductive reasoning is applied in its pure sense when it comes to moral judgments, but we can, at the very least, use this to understand the different ways we critically analyze.

reason and rationality In our discussion of the narrative of reason, we

find that legal standards tend to use the vocabulary of “reasonableness” while moral philosophers often-times use reason and rationality interchangeably. Is there a valuable distinction between reason and ra-tionality? Encyclopedia Britannica describes ratio-nality as: “the quality or state of being agreeable to reason”; and reason as “a rational ground or motive,” “the power of comprehending, inferring, or thinking especially in orderly rational ways,” or the “proper exercise of the mind.” The Encyclopedia also offers ‘intelligence’ and ‘sanity’ as possible synonyms in the colloquial use of the term reason. (Encyclopedia Britannica Online) There seems to be little rhetorical distinction between the two definitions as they are used colloquially and throughout moral philosophy and so, though we will encounter different meanings of reasoning versus rationalizing, there is little valuable distinction between the concept of the reasonable man, versus the rational man, or reasonable thought versus rational thinking. For the purposes of this pa-per, they will be used interchangeably. However, as noted above, reasoning and rationalizing have distinct connotations.

Though in all of these definitions there is the im-plicit understanding (as there is in Locke’s Two Trea-tises) that reason comes naturally to man, the defini-tions themselves do not propose that reason assumes a particular moral disposition or prioritization of principles. Thus, although we are led to believe that the perfect application of reason would advance the most adequate and universal moral conclusions, we are not provided with a preconceived procedure of reasoning. This indicates a tension that we will find in both Locke’s works and in the modern perception of reason as used in the justice system: that reason implies a particular moral telos and universal agree-ment whilst reasoning is a specific activity of the brain, a kind of knowledge that directs judgment. Where by reasoning the thinking man is implicated into deci-


sion making by evaluating the moral significance of a situation based on his experience with similar situ-ations, reason appears to be a natural law compelled by the nature of man. (Human Understanding, 434) While the latter assumes, the former intends to inves-tigate and prove.

The idea that reason ascertains certain conclusive objects of knowledge, advancing the truth of some over others, works to validate these ideas. In demon-strating a connection between reason and a particu-lar object of knowledge, we assume that this connec-tion speaks to the truth of that object of knowledge. Through this method, many objects of knowledge, reasonably explained, become rubberstamped with the mark of reason and normalized; an assumption of truth following from the idea that the knowledge came about solely by the motivation of reason. What we will see is that what can be rationalized is not the same as a reasonable conclusion, and that many things “rationalized” are often motivated by alterna-tive modes of analysis.

kant’s Critique of reasonLocke was not the only philosopher of his time

who defined reason as a tool to access a higher moral law, and rational unity as the truth that transcends the physical understanding of the object. Immanuel Kant also described reason as the key to accessing objective truths. There is a distinction between mak-ing situational judgments and determining universal moral truths, as situational judgments are variant while a moral determination is permanent. As uni-versality is the marker of rationality, we should ex-pect that a conclusion determined by the process of reasoning would be a truth agreed upon by all other reasonable beings: “…now from this follows the third practical principle of the will as the supreme condi-tion of the agreement of the will with the universal practical reason, the idea of the will of every rational be-ing as a will that legislates universally.”(115, Kaufman) We can see how by this description, law is validated by real moral truths that are reasonably derived.

The upshot of both Kant and Locke’s descrip-tions of the application of reason is a belief in the synchronized morality of humanity. In stark contrast to moral relativists, philosophers such as Locke, Kant and Ayn Rand who pose reason as the guide to moral certainty, are really proposing that the tools we need to achieve legal perfection are within us. Rand states famously that: “My philosophy, in essence, is the con-cept of man as a heroic being, with his own happi-ness as the moral purpose of his life, with productive achievement as his noblest activity, and reason as his only absolute.”(William, Thomas. “What Is Objec-tivism?) What does this suggest in terms of how we should evaluate our principles? What we can see is that reason is not only our power, but it is also the principle to which we should defer in matters of mor-al law. Because it is the only thing that can be perfect,

as our specific conceptions of principles such as jus-tice and equality can be tainted, reason need be our highest principle upon which we attempt to actualize all other principles. These philosophers hold that the actualization of reason in the world is equivalent to the actualization of man himself. Key to observe here is the idea that experience and plurality do not alter what perfect reasoning would advance. Though the language of both Locke and Kant admits an inexo-rable marriage between reason and religion, Chris-tianity in particular, this does not alter the fact that reason is necessarily objective and dependant upon the absolute valuation of particular moral principles. (114, Kaufman) Thus, although reason is meant to stand as its own absolute, one must determine what principles are privileged in order to determine the di-rection of reasoning. We will therefore see that there is a tension between the idea that reason is completely objective and the problem of requiring a valuation of other moral principles in the act of reasoning. The sec-tion on moral reasoning will elaborate on this issue.

the marriage of reason and religionBefore reason was perceived as secular and as the

binary opposite of faith, it was often viewed as the intellectual gift of man, endowed to him by God. As reflection and evaluation were the distinct faculties of humanity, it is understandable why it would seem reason defined a kind of higher purpose we were given. Before scientific objectivism claimed reason, moral philosophers entertained the idea of coming to the conclusion that there is a God through reasoning.

In his section on “Faith, Reason and their distinct provinces,” Locke contradistinguishes faith and rea-son, showing that reason is the acquisition of knowl-edge through deduction whilst faith is the assump-tion of knowledge through revelation. (583, Human Understanding) Yet, in 1695, Locke authored and anonymously published an essay titled “The Reason-ableness of Christianity,” describing through practi-cal methods of reasoning why God exists. Here he alludes to an interrelatedness between faith and rea-son, and explains that reason prescribes an indefinite moral law: “God out of the infiniteness of his mercy, has dealt with man as a compassionate and tender fa-ther. He gave him reason, and with it a law; that could not be otherwise than what Reason should dictate; unless we should think that a reasonable Creature should have an unreasonable Law.” (Parke, Locke, The Reasonableness of Christianity) Here again, we note that reason assumes a specific moral telos. Un-like reasoning, it is not just a method of evaluating a proposition and determining a truth, it being the gift of a transcendent deity with a predefined intention, exposes a specific moral content. Locke does not pre-tend to omit a bias in his discussion of reason, nor does he intend to abstract reasonable judgment from particular moral substance and intention, it being en-tirely an ability provided by God.


Locke was not the only philosopher of old who married spirituality to his definition of reason. Ad-dressed in his passage on matters of the soul, Aris-totle describes reason as the capacity that organizes our perception of material phenomena. It is the in-tellectual power to both compare and distinguish objects of knowledge, essential only to the human experience. Distinguished from sensual perception, reason is a principle that posits objective ideals. Simi-lar to Locke, Aristotle sees reason as the function of the human soul, giving it an eternal significance and introducing it as the mental endowment of God. Here again is the suggestion that reason comes as a response to a specific moral intention inspired by God. Rationality is not only the mark of humanity, but of an omnipotent intention hoping that, through its utility, we recognize a specific moral paradigm. (535, Aristotle)

As we can see, the ancient moral philosophers, though discussing reason metaphysically, do not separate reason from a religious context. Although reason is often understood as secular today, it does not mean that reason does not inhabit a particular moral disposition or operate differently in different contexts. Despite the various typologies of reason, theoretical versus practical, deductive versus induc-tive etc., each philosopher includes his or her own assumption of the upshot of reasoning, positing his or her idea of its political importance in decision and judgment.

moral psyChologyYet recent psychological evidence supports the

idea that we tend to rationalize what was not origi-nally motivated by a rational motive or determined “reasonably.” In other words, we provide a narrative for the reasons we determine a judgment, which, are not the true reasons we determine the answer. Rich-ard Nisbett and Timothy Wilson’s 1977 report pub-lished in the Psychological Review suggested that we are generally unlikely to be able to comment on the cognitive procedures we use to determine a conclu-sion, thus unable to provide an adequate justification of why we came to said decisions. (233, Nisbett and Wilson) Through a series of psychological experi-ments, they demonstrate a tendency to rationalize decisions by a priori perceptions of the relationship between certain stimuli and response:

“We propose that when people are asked to re-port how a particular stimulus influenced a particular response, they do so not by consult-ing a memory of the mediating process, but by applying or generating causal theories about the effects of that type of stimulus on that type of response. They simply make judgments…about how plausible it is that the stimulus would have influenced the response. These plausibility judg-

ments exist prior to, or at least independently of, any actual contact with the particular stimulus embedded in a particular complex stimulus con-figuration.”(248)

As evidenced by the incorrect responses in the studies they performed, subjects could never accu-rately explain the connections they themselves made to the stimuli, or comprehend what influences actu-ally motivated their decisions and judgments.

In one particular study, designed specifically to observe the effects of aesthetics on choice, Nisbett and Wilson asked a group of fifty-two subjects to evaluate four identical pairs of stockings and name their preferences. The results were mostly in favor of the stockings positioned to the right, winning out by a ratio of about four to one. (243) Although all of the stockings were identical, not one consumer realized this, and an overwhelming majority preferred the rightmost stockings, denying later that their prefer-ences were at all influenced by the positioning. The specific aesthetic or causal theory this may be refer-encing could be a belief that shoppers, browsing left to right, should take time to make their decisions. But the critical discovery of this study was the fact that none of the consumers understood what primarily influenced their personal preferences. (243)

What the subjects in these studies lacked was an understanding of their own cognitive processes. Many studies have been done on the unconscious ef-fects of subliminal messages on consumers. Unique to this particular study, is its emphasis on the nega-tive consequences of seemingly arbitrary influ-ences to one’s understanding of self. Without prior knowledge of the relationship between stimuli and response, these subjects who had relied on an a priori causal understanding, were deceived. Studies like these can shed light on the psychology behind why we privilege certain moral commitments as well, and lead us to question what primarily influences many of our moral judgments.

moral reasoning and moral dilemmasThe last study addressed our understanding of

the cognitive procedures we ourselves apply to pro-duce judgments; and it concluded that our rationales tend to not match up with the truth of how we pro-cess information. However the problem of determin-ing which stockings we prefer most and why, is con-siderably less substantial than an issue that would advance moral or political implications. In their es-say on moral reasoning, Joseph Paxton and Joshua Greene introduce their research by positing an argu-ment where Person A eventually persuades Person B to adopt his principles. Without altering person B’s moral intuitions or emotional response to the subject, Person A appeals to the intellect of Person B who eventually concedes to his reasoning. (Paxton and Greene, 2) What work is being done here? With


the intention of demonstrating the relevance of mor-al reasoning in judgment, Paxton and Greene pro-pose that an appeal to one’s intellect, using evocative language such as ‘be rational,’ can actually affect a reaction and judgment that is distinguished from a judgment that would have been made primarily on moral intuitions. (15) However, whether the re-sponse or change in opinion can be universally ac-cepted as the most rational response, we are yet to be persuaded.

They experimented with the classic “crying baby” dilemma, where the subject must imagine him or her-self in a wartime scenario. Hiding under the floor-boards from the occupation of the enemy with neigh-bors and family, your child begins to cry hysterically, threatening the lives of yourself and others. You are presented with the following moral dilemma: “Is it morally acceptable to smother your baby to death in order to save yourself and other villagers?”(11) They found that for this compelling example, there was a long delay in response time because of the serious-ness of the problem-at-hand, and also that the sub-jects were conflicted between an “emotional response that opposes “personally” harmful actions and a more controlled cognitive response that, in utilitarian fashion, favors minimizing harm.”(12) Observing the two areas of the brain that are stimulated during an emotional response and a utilitarian response, they found that subjects were experiencing a construc-tive combination of the two processes. Though the rationale for those who would smother their child was decidedly utilitarian, both the utilitarian and the emotional parts of their brain were stimulated. The similar situation occurred with those who answered intuitively that said they could not kill their child.

It was found in a Cognitive Reflection Test that the subjects with a more mathematical intellectual style tended to defer to the utilitarian principles. Subsequent to being presented with the moral dilem-ma, they were asked to answer the following math question in order to determine their thinking styles: “A bat and a ball cost $1.10. The bat costs one dollar more than the ball. How much does the ball cost?” Interestingly enough, those who responded to the moral dilemma saying they would not kill their child, answered intuitively that the ball was 10 cents and the bat one dollar. The individuals who answered the math problem correctly (saying the ball was 5 cents and the bat $1.05 dollars) were the ones who responded to the moral dilemma with a utilitarian approach. (13)

What about this scenario speaks to our under-standing of reason as a faculty? Does this propose that those with more advanced intellectual capabili-ties will be able to reason more efficiently? By com-menting that those who applied utilitarian principles had more “rational” intellectual styles, Paxton and Greene imply that those who followed their moral intuitions somehow think less rationally. (13) Because

they answered the math problem incorrectly, and as universal truth is the marker of rationality (Kant) this conclusion may be correct in this particular instance. However, this finding seems to contradict their obser-vation that all of the subjects deliberated extensively, accessing both reason and emotion before making a judgment. In 2004, Greene contributed to the research of another psychological experiment that determined that various cognitive and emotional processes “play crucial and sometimes mutually competitive roles.”(Greene et. al, 329) It would suggest that those who respond “intuitively” also consider a rational re-sponse, and that those who respond “rationally” also consider an emotional response. Specifically, they de-termine based on the relation of these considerations to specific neural locations in the brain, that abstract reasoning and cognitive control (described here as moral intuition or emotional guidance, 396) collabo-rate to motivate “even a cold, calculating utilitarian” to decision:

“Reaching an overt judgment on utilitarian grounds has two processing requirements. First, the abstract reasoning that constitutes a utilitarian anal-ysis must be conducted. Second, cognitive control must be engaged to support successful competition of the behavior favored by the outcome of that analy-sis against any incompatible behavioral pressures (e.g. an emotional response favoring the opposite be-havior) Thus, we might expect to see neural activity associated with both of these demands in the results of the analysis. (Greene, 396)

Although the emotional response may have been rejected or dismissed as unprincipled or difficult to present rationally, it still plays its part in the determi-nation of the “reasonable” response. This fact leads us to challenge whether reasoning can ever be “ab-stract.” “Should this account prove correct…it will have the ironic implication that the Kantian, “ratio-nalist” approach to moral philosophy is, psychologi-cally speaking, grounded not in principles of pure practical reason, but in a set of emotional responses that are subsequently rationalized.”(398)

This finding forces us to then reevaluate the broad application of reason as used in the previous study of the “crying baby” dilemma. Moral reasoning is de-scribed as an evaluation of a moral judgment to as-sess it for its inconsistency with other moral commit-ments (6, Paxton and Greene) and in this study it is described as an extensive process of deliberating in-volving abstraction (389, Greene et. al). Though both descriptions share a certain resonance with Locke’s understanding of reasoning, and both admit the in-terplay of practical versus intuitive considerations in the process of reasoning, neither of the definitions provide that in the application of reason, there is always and necessarily a dependence on principle. While both studies noted this codependence, neither took it upon themselves to redefine reason accord-ingly.


These studies suggest that the application of dif-ferent principles lead to different kinds of reasoning. If the principle in play is moral absolutism as op-posed to utilitarianism, would this principle not be just as justifiable? If the parent, instead of reasoning with a top down utilitarian approach, looked at the idea of killing one’s own child as violating a higher principle, is he or she wrong for reasoning by the means of another principle? In other words, is it the conclusion that is the important content of judgment or is it the process of how we get there? In proposing these two distinct principles as possible alternatives for reason, both conclusions seem justifiable and rea-sonable. It does not answer questions, however, as posed by responses such as: “I feel it is wrong to kill my own child.” Whether that is an unacceptable or unreasonable response by the nature of it being based on a moral intuition and not utilitarian moral reason-ing, or because this feeling was not subsequently ra-tionalized by a “rational argument,” we have yet to determine. Where, then, does the universal marker of rationality come into play? It seems that by neces-sitating a dependency on preconceived principles and implying their absolute value, the thinkers of old accurately justified marrying reason to a particular moral disposition.

hoW Can reason Be Contradistinguished from other refleCtiVe modes of analysis?

How can we determine the difference between “reason” and reflection, for example, as faculties that distinguish man from animal? Or “reasoning” and “analysis” as distinct methods of determining a judg-ment? Reasoning is not just thinking, comparing, re-flecting or being introspective. In other words, it is not simply the sum of its parts. The defining char-acteristic of reason is that it depends heavily on its relationship to specific moral principles. The value of reason is that it produces objective conclusions. Yet there cannot be universal agreement on the objectiv-ity if there is not an agreed hierarchy of moral prin-ciples upon which we can base the moral reasoning.

The difficulty then, when applied to judging the criminality of a behavior, is that correct reasoning is dependant on a homogenous commitment to certain moral principles. As juries are implored to “think ra-tionally” about a decision, contra rational decisions that may employ other processes of thought that are just as reliable or well thought out, are dismissed if not rationalized. Reasoning and thinking in general become collapsed, as reason is the assumed expres-sion of intelligence. Years ago, Jefferson expressed that the universe was bent towards justice. Progres-sion was seen as the only possible course of history as long as the reasonable man was implicated into a democratic society. The assumption this was based upon was that perfect reasoning would lead us to certain inexorable moral truths.

Contrary to this idea that reason is the primary

function of the thinking man, the psychological stud-ies referenced above suggest that moral reasoning is one of many modes of analysis that we use to deter-mine and justify conclusions. What it means to obey the dictate of reason, wants definition. It is not, how-ever, this author’s intention to criticize reason as if the process itself is problematic. Nor do I want to say that reason is an inadequate method of determining a moral truth. It is in fact a valuable form of analyzing the moral significance of a situation by comparison with other familiar situations. Yet when the original thinkers evoked the language of moral reasoning, they did not abstract it entirely from moral intuition. Thoughts and feelings are not so diametrically op-posed to one another so that reasonable decision can be deduced to solely its rational components and an intuitive decision, its emotional components. Addi-tionally, if we revisit the function of pure reasoning, we see that it leaves much room for interpretation. When evoking analogies to determine the relation-ship between new objects of knowledge, how does man determine which analogies are most relevant to the situation at hand? How does he determine how the past relationships work to furnish a new one? There is much room for an inherent bias, as the ways different people interpret will vary.

When we neglect to admit the importance of oth-er modes of analysis and assume that reason operates abstractly in the world, we refuse to see the biases of reason or what moral judgment involves psychologi-cally. Reason does much work in the world, but it is necessarily affected by subjective experience. Addi-tionally, even when we think we are reasoning, we are often rationalizing an a priori commitment to an-other principle. My hope is that, by admitting that we are motivated by various and occasionally conflicting principles, we can imagine a more forgiving justice system with a more realistic understanding of the po-litical psychology of man.

part ii: reason in the JustiCe system

“a wiLL ThaT LegiSLaTeS univerSaLLy”There is perhaps no better place to observe the role

of moral reasoning and the complex mechanisms of the American justice system then the Supreme Court of the United States. The opinions the Justices prof-fer allow us to glimpse into the minds that produce and legislate our normative legal precedents. Versed in the language of reasonable standards and attentive to the intent and direction of the law, the Supreme Court Justices have no issue implying or stating out-right what these normative standards should be.

As it is their obligation to determine precedents, they must allege objective legal standards that are durable enough to last the test of time. However, this does not mean that they never produce controversial standards or occasionally give definitions that are too vague to be applied universally. In the 1920’s and 1930’s, a group of “legal realists” who advanced their


philosophy of “liberal legalism,” believed we should admit that the role of the Supreme Court is not only to interpret the law, but also to create it. (O’Brien, 71) Arguing that the only way to really bring the consti-tution to life in a legal sense is to interpret it by the perceived standards of the day, the legal realists op-posed the idea that there could be any such thing as strict judicial positivism or that a Justice could ever simply declare the law of the constitution as if it pro-jected its own moral significance:

“I think one of the evil features, a very evil one, about all this assumption that judges only find the law and don’t make it, often becomes the evil lack of candor. By covering up the law-making function of judges, we miseducate people and fail to bring out into the open the real responsibility of judges for what they do…Here, as else where, the difficulty comes from arguing in terms of ab-solutes when the matter at hand is conditioned by circumstances…Judges as you well know, cannot escape the finitude of even the most imag-inative legislation renders inevitable.”(Justice Hugo Black, O’Brien, 72)

According to Justice Black, the issue is one of full disclosure, and not an actual point of contention in the liberal versus conservative interpretation of the constitution. The Justices who agree to this liberal description of their role expanded our understand-ing of judicial legislation and its effects on normative standards.

Assuming this revised understanding, where there is no interpretation of law there can be no decla-ration of it. The existing plurality of judicial opinions serves to prove that even when extensive delibera-tion and moral reasoning is employed to make a de-cision, moral disagreement comes about. How does this reconcile with the traditional definitions of rea-son as applied to moral judgment? Does lack of una-nimity signify imperfect moral reasoning? Or does it signify that factors other than reason are employed significantly in the determination of a decision? First, we will observe what considerations go into an aver-age decision of the Supreme Court and whether there are some considerations that are privileged beyond the scope of reason. We will notice that what we take to be objective activity, applying the law of the consti-tution to case law, is influenced by a myriad of other principal considerations since interpretation itself opens the gates to subjectivity. Secondly, we will see to what extent there are expectations of reasonable-ness implicit in the judgment of ordinary citizens, and whether these are fair expectations of human behavior.

Is reason really, as Kant proposes, a will that legis-lates universally? (Kaufman, 115)

the struCture of a supreme Court opinionAfter reviewing a variety of opinions, it is easily

observed that the justices are plagued by various con-cerns above and beyond assuring the moral sound-ness of their determinations. These concerns include consistency with previous determinations and stan-dards, solidifying new legal precedents that have been assessed for their potential consequences, the relevance of analogies employed from other cases, the general welfare of the nation, the historical con-text of the case and, what is considered their most important obligation-the protection of the language and intention of the constitution. Unlike moral phi-losophers who have the flexibility to liberally evalu-ate moral principles and differ in their commitments, justices are expected to adhere to all legal standards, unless they find that these standards are incompat-ible with the constitution. The most recent combined constitutional and judicial oath that newly ordained justices must recite, reads:

“I, _________, do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will administer justice without respect to persons, and do equal right to the poor and to the rich, and that I will faithfully and impartially discharge and perform all the duties incumbent upon me as _________ under the Constitution and laws of the United States; and that I will support and defend the Constitution of the Unit-ed States against all enemies, foreign and domes-tic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, with-out any mental reservation or purpose of eva-sion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter. So help me God.” (Supreme Court of the United States. Texts of the Oaths of Offices for Supreme Court Justices)

This oath was created under the Judiciary act of 1789, and was subsequently edited in 1991. It re-placed the clause “according to the best of my abili-ties and understanding, agreeably to the constitution and laws of the United States” with “under the con-stitution” (Supreme Court of the United States. Texts of the Oaths of Offices for Supreme Court Justices) This is a rather consequential edit, as it clearly favors an in-clination towards the strict interpretation of the con-stitution. But what does this change signify in terms of the character of judicial review?

As the justices defer primarily to the constitution, it is clear that the Supreme Court is meant to privi-lege their commitment to social contract as the rul-ing principle in moral judgment. This translates to an idea that adhering to precedence or law is in itself a moral end. A layman is at liberty to defer to the com-pulsion of his heart or mind to determine the moral righteousness of his decision. However, the Supreme Court justices must defer to the constitution as if it


has prescribed a preconceived morality; they must determine the reason of the law, the meaning of its language, and how to best execute its dictate in keep-ing with its original intentions. They are just as much responsible for determining the mind of the law, as they are the heart of it- what it intended to address and fix, and whether the past context is comparable to the context in which it is now being summoned. Everything must be judged for its constitutionality, for what is constitutional is what is right. They hold the constitution as an absolute, and most important-ly, as a moral end in itself.

We can very easily observe how prioritizing the commitment to social contract theory as a principle can function by way of moral reasoning. By abstract-ing the critical components of the case and juxtapos-ing them against similar cases and their determina-tions, justices can determine through abstraction and comparison, what is right. The judicial decision-making process operates under the assumption that what was determined as law in the past is always and already just and reasonable, and thus defers to that opinion in order to create a new one in the present situation. The determined result of the past is used in the present context. But how does this work with our moral philosophers’ definition of reason as tran-scendent and rationality as marked by universality? The mere plurality of opinions seems to suggest that there is no one way to reason and that it based on the various interpretations of the judges. Additionally, decisions of the past that the justices refer to are not always in the context of their own interpretations and experiences, but on whichever justice represented the majority opinion in the past case. This is an interest-ing instance of collective morality in play here; an assumption that one can come to a truth by the per-ceived experience of another.

In order to visualize how reason functions in the context of the law, we will review one of the recent Supreme Court cases. I chose Ayers v. Belmontes be-cause it is a good example of how justices are expect-ed to work under the auspices of cold, calculating ju-dicial review even in the most ethically controversial cases. We will see whether the judgments are genu-inely calculating, or whether the justices allow their own personal moral commitments to slip through:

In the 2010 case of Robert L. Ayers (Warden) ver-sus Fernando Belmontes, the Supreme Court ruled in favor of a death penalty sentence. Belmontes, the of-fender, committed a robbery and subsequent murder. This being his second conviction, the jury was to con-sider whether his crime merited capitol punishment. Subsequent to his previous conviction, Belmontes dedicated himself to the Christian faith and partici-pated in community service activities for emotional and spiritual rehabilitation. He provided witnesses, including the bishop from his church, who attested to the fact that he was a genuine role model and a posi-tive contribution to the prison community by advis-

ing other prisoners who wanted to be reformed, not to make the same mistakes as he.

Belmontes’s appealed to the jury not with the hope that he would be forgiven for his crime, but rather that his sentence would be lightened due to the prospect that in the future, he could be produc-tive. He hoped tohave his sentence lessened to life in prison, instead of receiving the death penalty. In spite of his appeal to the court, the jury found him guilty and sentenced him to death. (Kennedy, Justice. “AYERS v. BELMONTES.”)

In the 1970’s, the Supreme Court ruled that capi-tol punishment was not “cruel and unusual punish-ment,” and that it was constitutional. Subsequent to this decision, various states legalized capitol pun-ishment. Today, the death penalty is legal in thirty-eight states nationwide. (O’Brien, 1170) In 1970, the Supreme Court held in Lockett versus Ohio, that states cannot limit the “mitigating factors” that juries can consider in the determination of a sentence. It then became a balancing act of weighing the “aggravat-ing” factors against the “mitigating” factors to de-termine what punishment was deserved. In the case highlighted above, (Ayers v Belmontes) the judge gave the jury the following instruction:

“I have previously read to you the list of aggra-vating circumstances which the law permits you to consider if you find that any of them is es-tablished by the evidence. These are the only ag-gravating circumstances that you may consider. You are not allowed to take account of any other facts or circumstances as the basis for deciding that the death penalty would be an appropriate punishment in this case.”

The above statement was in reference to the “ag-gravating factors,” the claims against Belmontes in-volving the murders and other crimes he committed. The following statement is the judge’s instruction to the jury about what they should do with the “mitigat-ing factors,” the claims attesting to his constructive behavior and his rough childhood that may convince them to lessen the sentence. After a list of what gener-al mitigating factors the jury may consider, the judge continued:

“However, the mitigating circumstances which I have read for your consideration are given to you merely as examples of some of the factors that you may take into account as reasons for decid-ing not to impose a death penalty or a death sen-tence upon Mr. Belmontes. You should pay care-ful attention to each of these factors. Any one of them standing alone may support a decision that death is not the appropriate punishment in this case.” Id., at 185–186


The defense attorney then appealed to the Su-preme Court, arguing that the language of the judge had confused the jurors and disallowed them from considering all of the “mitigating factors” in the de-termination of his client’s sentence. Reviewing the circumstances of the case and the past standards it brought to view, a majority of the justices concluded that the jury had indeed considered all “mitigating factors” and that the appeal was invalid because the jury had considered all of the evidence.

Here we can see how the Supreme Court Justices apply Locke’s definition of reason in their juxtapo-sition of past determinations to present objects of knowledge. Locke described reason as the interven-tion of other ideas to determine the agreement or dis-agreement of the two new ideas. Here we can imag-ine that one idea is the behavior of the judge whilst the other idea is the constitutionality of this behavior. The relationship is determined by the juxtaposition of the circumstances to the past standards and how they related to the behavior of other judges. In the Furman opinion of 1972, it was decided that jurors must be told to weigh the aggravating factors against the mitigating factors and that the courts can not keep them from considering such factors. By proving that the negligence in Furman is not represented in Ayers, the Justices reason that the lower court’s judge was indeed acting constitutionally. The moral prin-ciple evoked in this reasoning is the same as in most Supreme Court cases: a commitment to the durability of legal standards and the constitution. We see here that legal arguments are more often about how the extenuating circumstances match up to the language of the law, not necessarily always the principles of it.

Yet politics is as much what is said as it is what is not said. In Ayers, the Supreme Court did not decide to propose a more straightforward instruction to the jury that would ensure that all mitigating factors were considered in a case where capitol punishment is in-volved. Couldn’t they have gone into an explanation of what ‘considering the mitigating factors’ means, and questioned whether the jury understood based on their final sentencing? What if the Justices, con-sidering the principle of consequentialism, had imag-ined the potential consequence of not clarifying that the instructions regarding mitigating factors should be completely understood by all jurors? The end of the opinion establishes a virtual checklist to deter-mine constitutionality, not an assessment of “good faith,” as is occasionally employed in Supreme Court cases.

What the justices employ here is what is referred to as legal reasoning. This involves an assumption that a respect towards the legal standards is itself a commitment to certain moral truths, unless they are found to be otherwise controversial to our interpre-tation of the constitution. Constitutionality is all we have of a full description of morality, and the amend-ments, though difficult to enact and get approved,

are the only indivisible external addenda to the con-stitution. Yet the alleged objectivity of “legal reason-ing” in contrast to “moral reasoning” is deceptive, and decisions are often made with respect to the vari-ous moral commitments of different Justices.

As we can observe in Justice Stevens’ dissenting opinion, some of the Justices based their reasoning on different principles. As made apparent by their full presentation of the content of the mitigating factors, the dissenting Justices showed sympathy in their judgment. In their dissenting opinion, they reference Belmontes’ devastating past and current circum-stances that have negatively affected his character. His father was an abusive alcoholic who regularly beat his mother and once attempted to shoot him. He was committed to a juvenile prison at the age of 16 and his life has only spiraled downward since.

Considering these mitigating factors, which, im-portantly, were not even mentioned in the majority Opinion of the Supreme Court, the dissenting jus-tices believe that: “the testimony afforded the jury a principled basis for imposing a sentence other than death.” The Justices claim that the jury may have been genuinely confused as to whether they were to include the mitigating factors provided, as a part of the weighing process. They go on to explain that the prosecutor said he “did not think” that these factors were relevant and that the judge did not clarify that they were. From this perspective, both the prosecutor and the judge could have kept the jury from includ-ing the mitigating factors that were presented to the court.

There are two important concepts that arise from this dissent that are directly relevant to our discus-sion of reason. First, although rational arguments were presented on both sides, the rationale led to two different judgments. Also, in considering the same case within the same context, the concurring and the dissenting judges all reasoned to determine their respective judgments. There is a major difference in the presentation and the structure of the two differ-ent opinions. The first opinion focused primarily on the legality of the judge’s behavior, offering a straight legal checklist to eventually determine the judge did all he had to do. Yet the second opinion was content heavy. Extensive demonstration of the mitigating fac-tors and extenuating circumstance of the Belmontes case leads us to believe that the dissenting judges were more sympathetic to Belmontes’ circumstance. They even go so far as to say that if a reasonable jury sincerely did consider these circumstances, they would have certainly lessened the sentence (an as-sumption of what any reasonable jury would have determined).

How do we know, then, that the dissenting opin-ion was genuinely motivated by a belief in the ille-gality of the action of the judge, or whether it was motivated by feelings of sympathy? As we saw in the experiments with moral judgments mentioned ear-


lier, ideas are often rationalized by reasonable argu-ments even when they were originally motivated by moral intuition. The difficulty here is that there is no way to prove either way whether the conclusion was determined by the hand of cold calculating reason, or stimulated by a pull at the heartstrings. The differ-ence in focus, and the extent of representation of the rough past of the offender, however, seems to suggest that these factors weighed heavily on the minds of the dissenting judges.

the politiCs of legal reasoningIn his novel “The Politics of Law,” David Kairys

takes up this problem in depth. He presents a series of papers wherein political theorists from a variety of disciplines argue the problem of having no deter-mined theory that defines how to interpret the law. Picking up from the argument of legal liberalists who admit the importance of addressing the court’s con-structive role in legislation, Kairys and other progres-sive theorists argue that not determining a principle or legal methodology opens the doors to legal ambi-guity. He states:

“the lack of required, legally correct rules, meth-odologies, or results is in part a function of the limits of language and interpretation, which are subjective and value laden. More importantly, indeterminacy stems from the reality that the law usually embraces and legitimizes many or all of the conflicting values and interests involved in controversial issues and a wide and conflicting array of “logical” or “reasoned” arguments and strategies of argumentation, without providing any legally required hierarchy of values or arguments or any required method for determin-ing which is most important in a particular context. Judges then make choices, and those choices are most fundamentally value based, or political.”(Kairys, 4)

Kairys makes a very important point here that should not be overlooked. At face value, it may not make much sense to have preordained theory for in-terpreting the law, for this would fix it to an extent that a democratically inclined political audience may not feel comfortable with. However, Kairy is not pro-posing that the laws themselves remain fixed and unchangeable. He is proposing that we agree on a hierarchy of values so that the decision to privilege some values over others is not the arbitrary choice of the judge or jury. For example, determining con-cepts like whether we privilege equality over liberty or vice versa (a loaded concept and one of the most controversial theoretical dilemmas between conser-vatives and liberals) would literally revolutionize our decisions in the law. Though there would be dis-agreement, there would also be certain clarity that we lack today.

But was it not moral intuition that inspired the justices in cases such as Brown v. Board? Here it was not so much a commitment to legal precedent, but rather to principles such as equality and justice that

led the court to their decision. Even though they ra-tionalized their belief with a discussion of the con-stitutionality of segregation in public places, there were many other considerations that made it clear that they meant to make a national statement and af-fect international esteem. This was a good thing, but it was not motivated solely by the principles of up-holding the law. It was very obviously motivated by extralegal factors as Justice Jackson recognizes in his memorandum to the court:

“Extralegal criteria from sociological, psychologi-cal and political sciences are proposed. Segregation is said to be offensive to the best contemporary opinion here and damaging to our prestige abroad…These are disputed contentions which I have little compe-tence to judge as scientific matters but with which, for purposes of this case, I shall not disagree…How-ever that may be…I do not think we should import into the concept of equal protection of the law these elusive psychological and subjective factors. They are not determinable with satisfactory objectivity or mensurable[sic] with reasonable certainty…”(1411, O’Brien)

Justice Jackson articulates exactly what Kairys is concerned with. That without a standard of what ju-dicial review is allowed to consider and be motivated by in the interpretation of the law, we are subject to the capricious nature of the politics of lawmaking. This is exactly the distinction that is meant to sepa-rate the judicial and legislative branches of the law. There is a certain comfort in the idea that the Su-preme Court will represent the law without preju-dice, and apply its dictate universally. Yet whether or not it is actually plausible that legal reasoning can act abstractly is yet to be proven.

Kairys takes issue with the reasonable standards as employed by the court because of the vagueness of their legal definition, and what this allows in light of their interpretation. Although, for the sake of law, it seems necessary to determine a hierarchy of morals, can we say that every American individual should have homogenous moral priorities? This seems to undermine the fact that one’s morality is often a re-sult of their experience with principles and how they work in the world. We are interested not only in what work the implication of “reasonable standards” does in the justice system, but additionally what conse-quences the postulate of man as reasonable affects in the judgment of man in a general sense. Not only should we look at the decisions of the justices, but we should also break down our perception of man as reasonable and recognize it as also dependant on his moral inclination. There are many political instances when reason was not used to determine what was right. Even with the assumption of a strict compli-ance to laws and regulations, if we cannot say that moral judgments are all made reasonably even when fully though out and deliberated upon, what sense does it make to say that man himself is primarily


characterized by his rationality? An undefined com-mitment to moral priorities and uncertainty about the moral inclination of man complicate the marriage between reason and justice.

part iii: human BehaVior

“If you ever get close to a human and human behavior, you better be ready to get confused…There’s definitely, definitely, definitely no logic to human behavior.”(Bjork, Human Behavior)

The most seemingly straightforward and often quoted right of the Declaration of Independence is that of “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” Issues involving the protection of these rights, are brought before the Supreme Court all of the time. We assume these rights to be inalienable and always pro-tected, already and always defined. But they are also subject to the interpretation of the law, and the gen-eral language used to describe them makes it even more difficult to understand and protect. Is killing an unborn child killing a life? How can we protect life when we are unsure of what it excludes? Is the social obligation of taxation an infringement on property? Or is it the inescapable cost of protecting our other rights? And what is the pursuit of happiness? Some of the basic rights that we most depend upon for our personal security, are the most difficult to interpret, and a reasonable standard may not lead us to a de-finitive response to these challenging questions.

Since we understand ourselves as individually defined by these rights and abilities, we are com-pelled to conceive of the best manner of actualizing them in our lives. As political beings, we hope to be-have in a manner that is self-liberating and in concor-dance with our deepest principles. But the problem is that Locke’s conception of human nature and natural rights is not universally agreed upon, the most obvi-ous disagreement coming from people with different religious backgrounds who would disagree with its foundation in Christianity. Though we may be able to say that there are some people who act to intention-ally reject their own principles, most people are not either “principled” or “unprincipled.” As our nature and our rights are conceived through the context of our separate experiences, they will necessarily take on unique textures, and come to be defined in a myr-iad of ways.

These rights are both metaphysical and political concepts. If the government is meant to protect man and his property as a part of his right to life, then we are advancing the cumulative conception that man and his property create his “self.” In effect, we con-ceptualize man and his life in order to know what the government has jurisdiction over. The Supreme Court has resided over cases as personal as what kind of pornographic content man can view in the privacy of his own home and what substances he can

legally ingest. The very standard of a “reasonable expectation of privacy” betrays the fact that there are a variety of situations where privacy would and should be breached.

But where do these concepts of “would and should” come from? If we recognize that people privilege a variety of principles because of a diversity of experiences with them, how do we come out with a general belief about what behaviors are to be ex-pected? As we have seen from these examples, even when we are acting “within reason,” we do not al-ways agree on moral judgments because of inevitable disagreements in the prioritization of principles.

The law does not only exist to protect the physi-cal well being of man. It exists to protect the concept of the reasonable man; an amalgam of opinions on comportment that produce the political conception of the citizen. What the law is protecting is man’s meta-physical conception of himself: his identity. It is be-cause of this fact that we understand the question of gay marriage to be of legal importance. People who oppose gay marriage believe that it would disrupt the conception of a heterosexual union with God. Though the physical marriage is not disturbed, the identity of it is altered. The idea that identity should be protected by the government gives it an almost virtual existence, proposing that there should be an ideal conception of the rational man.

the unreasonaBle man?To say that humans are inherently unreasonable,

however, takes on a negative connotation and im-plies that reason and passion operate as perfect bina-ries. To advance the irrationality of humanity would undermine the importance of the entire argument of this essay: that reason does not function abstractly in this world, that it can not be separated from our moral dispositions, our prejudices, or our emotions. Our diverse definitions of reason and of the moral conclusions that we determine by way of reasoning, further complicate the assumption of a universal “ra-tional unity.”

If we were to say that where reason is not evoked there is no coherent process of deliberation, we un-dermine the complex behavior of thought and all of human history that predates the “discovery” of rea-son. Even if we are influenced to a decision primar-ily by the motivation of emotion, we are still think-ing and deliberating to determine the relationship between these feelings and a response that best ad-dresses them. It is more meaningful to suggest that humans are not always reasonable, and that they can elicit reason in moments of decision when encour-aged to ‘be rational.’ But even subsequent to this com-mand, a particular behavioral response cannot be expected, since humans make connections in many different manners. In order to address the intricacies of the animal experience, we must admit that reason is not essential to all of human activity. Man is not


irrational but he is not always and already rational, as rationality is both a characteristic of behavior and a means of judging behavior. The very fact that we must posit the “rational man” to construct social con-tract theory indicates the preponderance of actions which are not perceived as rational by definition.

Our moral code is not strictly derived from the narrative of reason. Religion plays her part and so does the instinct of emotion. Jean Jacques Rousseau’s description of the man in nature is naturally repulsed by the view of another in pain. We do not privilege reason in this situation for it is irrelevant; the prin-ciple of sympathy is prioritized here. Despite what moral certainties we may advance for the sake politi-cal campaigns, in our minds there are no ideological absolutes, since individual principles operate on a situational basis; they do not saturate thought or ex-ist when they are irrelevant to the instance. For one to evoke a principle that may not be in complete moral agreement with another principle does not indicate a definite disagreement between the two. For when we are not reasoning, we are not juxtaposing the two ideas against each other, and we may not even recog-nize the disharmony. Where the other principle may not be relevant to the situation, it is not even consid-ered as an ideological dispute. In our understanding of man as a political entity, we need to consider that he is not always thinking politically.

Not using reason as means to determine ends, does not mean we are not thinking. Reason has been made to seem as if it and thought are one in the same. To say that the Supreme Court justices are not rea-sonable or rational comes across as an insult to their intelligence. Yet, as we have seen above, reason is not the mental inclination of human beings. Intellect behaves way more complexly than to follow the dic-tate of any one specific moral law. There are many instances where reason is not necessary. If a man is to make a dispassionate decision on the life sentence of another man, why is it necessary for him to exer-cise rationality if we understand it as an interest in self preservation? How would it be relevant? In fact, it is even less relevant in the example of the Justices because their positions as justices, thus livelihoods, are not threatened by their decisions. Part of the rea-son they are guaranteed a life long position is so that they can comfortably exercise judgment without the threat of accountability.

Reasoning directs us to make relations, but it does not set up a system of these relations. Are we convinced that reflecting on laws that are based on moral principles is enough to indicate that moral rea-soning was involved? If it does not define a particular moral disposition, to say “think rationally” is mean-ingless. What is not rational is not irrational. What is abnormal and even cruel or unusual, is not neces-sarily irrational. It is just not rational. The assump-tion that everything that is not decidedly rational is necessarily diametrically opposed to the dictate of

reason suggests a binary opposition between reason and some other avenue of thought that does not ex-ist. Yet when it is said that man is reasonable, what is meant is that he is inclined to reason. The impor-tance of questioning this is that it is the theoretical basis of human relations and how we view justice; if we question whether man is naturally inclined to reason, we are more willing to be forgiving of him if and when we perceive him to be acting abnormally by our standards.

the Creation of Criminal as a perpetual identity

In his novel on human understanding, Locke goes into an extensive description of the various types of knowledge we ascertain. One type of knowledge, that I believe directly describes how we apply the concept of identity in the real world, is his descrip-tion of “modal” knowledge. In order for reason to function, we create an abstract identity for an object that is manifested through our description of it. Like a metaphysical visualization, we imagine the object by evoking our perception of it as the full represen-tation of it. It is only by this method of abstraction that we can compare ideas and discuss physical ex-istences and relations. As Lippmann asserts on the subject: “For the real world is altogether too big, too complex and too fleeting for direct acquaintance. We are not equipped to deal with so much subtlety, so much variety, so many permutations and combina-tions. And although we have to act in that environ-ment, we have to reconstruct it on a simpler model before we can manage it”(Lippmann, 11.) In order for ideas to interact so that we can produce judgments of them, we must begin with our subjective under-standing of things, and subsequently bring them to life by comparison.

It would make sense for personal identity to in-corporate just this kind of modal existence. Latent with descriptions of the self and others, entertain-ing a concept of identity allows us to understand our relative character. Indeed, even our “discovery” of reason comes out of our juxtaposition of the concept of “human” (thus self) with “animal;” a conceptual understanding of the significance of both existenc-es is necessary to subsequently create an identity and propose a distinction (Uzgalis, William. “John Locke”.)

(But, as Locke poses: “the real essence of elephants and gold” is hidden from us because we ascribe them a descriptive nature)

All political theories begin with a description of human nature in order to make assumptions about behavior and posit the most effective political sys-tem in response. Reason as the assumed identity of man is just a dialectical conception that is invoked in order to evaluate action. Theory has so saturated po-litical reality that identity is judged as if it physically exists separate from our conception of it. How can


we redress the issue of justice by keeping in mind that reason is a standard and not the essential char-acteristic of the material being him or herself?

If there were no issue of philosophical pluralism, we would not have to judge the moral commitments of others. If we could not perceive moral disagree-ment, we would not perceive a distinction between citizen and criminal in terms of identity. We judge a man when his identity appears distinguished, not when he is acting with us. Only when we see his ac-tions as somehow standing apart, do we judge his principles. Pluralism then motivates judgment; it is not so much the moral disagreements themselves, but of our perception of “the other” as necessarily be-ing in moral disagreement with ourselves. America is one of the most diverse countries in the world. It is also the country with the highest rate of incarcera-tion. It may be possible that there is a relationship be-tween pluralism and criminalization.

In his book “Public Opinion,” Walter Lippmann was primarily concerned about the distance between our perception of reality and the truth. He worried that the real pluralism in the world and our inability to genuinely perceive differences and reason accord-ingly, leads us to stigmatize and stereotype in order to make decisions quickly and effectively. In his chapter on stereotypes, he addresses our dependence on generalizations to bespeak moral certainties: “For the attempt to see all things freshly and in detail, rather than as types and generalities, is exhausting, and among busy affairs practically out of the ques-tion…even without phrasing it ourselves, we feel in-tuitively that all classification is in relation to some purpose not necessarily our own…”(Lippmann, 59) Thus although it is the inner workings of our minds that fashion the relations between objects, we give these determined relations an existential character, imagining they point to some transcendent meaning and have permanent value.

“Criminal” is not just a description of behavior, but a stigma. The primary idea being the sum of a man’s actions and the secondary idea being a de-scription of criminal, we compare this relationship to our previous conceptions of the relationship be-tween people and their behaviors. The conception of criminal as an identity can easily be determined by reasoning, yet it cannot be reasonable if it is not universally accepted. Do we all agree that a criminal is anyone who breaks the law or do we dismiss peo-ple who commit minor offenses as people who have simply exhibited some criminal behavior? Is the law our only factor in the determination of this identity of criminal, or can the government itself be criminal when it does something that rubs up against our per-sonal moral standards?

As valuable as it may seem to compel man to “think rationally,” in order for him to step outside the boundaries of his emotional intuitions, his ability to perceive relationships without the play of experien-

tial biases is questionable. Even racist theories such as Social Darwinism were based on the assumptions of reason, claiming a relationship between the sur-vival of the fittest between animals to the survival of the fittest between humans. The creation of a specific moral significance of Darwin’s studies was the dan-gerous import of twisted reasoning. Most important-ly, it was racism and not science that prompted this reasoning, subsequently rationalized by arguments Darwin himself denied were relevant to sociological studies.

So why do we still operate under the assumption that man is inherently reasonable? Though many political philosophers have come to reject the idea that man is always acting within reason, and have observed the consequence of the assumption of ratio-nality, the dream of true objectivity that would lead to a perfect political society has long ago grabbed hold of this country, and never let go. It is the great appeal to reason that compels us to believe we can one day achieve this moral certainty.

the dream of aBsolute Certainty: the ultimate Bias in the exerCise of reason

“Every failing that is human, pure humanity atones” (Kaufman quoting Goethe, 209)

It is ultimately impossible to escape the inevitable political dogmas that affect our perception of hu-manity and thus our judgment of man. The idealistic dream of reason as our ticket to the absolute distorts reality in the same sense that emotional moods dis-tort memory. An interpretation by definition is an alteration of the original truth, thus the idea of “un-locking the potential” of the Constitution or of the faculty of reason really translates to creating the most relevant interpretation of it.

The ultimate bias of reason is that it subscribes to the dream of absolute certainty. It hopes that its theory is actualized by the mark of universality, and thus prescribes itself as its own moral end. The real-ity of our commitment to objective reason, however, is questionable. The fact that we do not propose an overarching theory of moral priorities that would legislate our interpretation of the law shows that our commitment to democracy may be more of a priority than our commitment to reason.

If we understand our political institutions to be flawed only in how humans execute law and do not entertain the idea that there may exist some philo-sophical flaws, then we will continue to believe that it is possible to reach absolute certainty by the dictate of reason. The dream of perfect moral justice is the plague that threatens America’s political conscious-ness. For because of this assumption that perfect justice is possible, we believe that unreasonable ac-tion is perfectly criminal. The upshot of this assump-tion is as primitive as yin and yang; that right and


wrong, crime and justice exist as perfect binary oppo-sites. This conclusion is dangerous. For most citizens who are not moral philosophers are not so capable of abstracting behaviors and causal narratives from identity’s description of a human being. Media cre-ates a fragmented representation of ourselves, and the world around us does not help to keep us from seeing identity as all encompassing. This prejudice will ultimately divide us and take us farther from our understanding of human beings as actors that re-spond to certain circumstances. It takes us away from an understanding of the similarity of our souls. As Lippmann states: “Until reason is subtle and particu-lar, the immediate struggle of politics will continue to require an amount of native wit, force, and unprov-able [sic] faith, that reason can neither provide nor control, because the facts of life are too undifferentiat-ed for its powers of understanding”(Lippmann, 261).

There is some beauty in the belief that we can achieve absolute moral certainty and manifest the principle of justice to the utmost extent. It was rather comforting to believe that “the moral arch of the uni-verse tends towards justice”(Jefferson). As it stands, our current judicial philosophy has led to mass incar-ceration and an exaggerated obligation to the polic-ing of powers around the world. Though this obliga-tion cannot be deduced solely to our faith in reason, it can be deduced to the conception of normalcy, pro-jected and perpetuated by inflexible political ideolo-gies. Years after the Civil War, it has been said that Lincoln decided to go to war because of his commit-ment to the preservation of the Union, and not for his sympathy towards blacks or his commitment to equality. Regardless of what principle his decisions were based on, it was crucial that he preserve the rhetoric of “saving the Union” in order to rationalize his decision to the public. As citizens, we are primar-ily motivated by this ideological rhetoric, even when these ideologies are often motivated by seemingly unrelated principles.

To admit that man is not naturally inclined to reason and that reason does not operate abstractly is not to take the faculty of reason away from him, nor to devalue the importance of reason. As we saw from the interplay of reason and intuition in psychologi-cal experiments and of reason and sympathy in the justice system, it is often used to explain the context and relevance of the judgment. Yet, we should never take this rationalization as a testament to pure rea-son, as humans are naturally motivated by a variety of stimuli. Humans are not unreasonable, but they are not naturally reasonable by virtue of being hu-man. It is only the secondary action of man, impli-cated into political society, to judge. He can only go so far.

Yet, how can we approach justice without a basic assumption of justifiable perspectives? Should insti-tutions be responsible to respond to the capricious nature of man? If we confront the idea that we do not

judge along the lines of pure practical reasoning, and that even the implication of reasonableness is wholly dependant on our moral priorities, it still would not change man’s propensity towards judging others. In conceptualizing identity and determining abstract relations, there is a certain economizing effect that simplifies our thoughts. Yet this effect can have dan-gerous consequences: if some men are considered rational and only certain reasonable standards are legitimate, than everyone who is different is a de-viant. “Criminal” becomes a perpetual identity and the moral truths that reason guides us towards are only applicable to the men who agree with them. Thus we should consider proposing something sub-stantial, a particular mode of interpreting the law so that we do not have to defer to a diverse set of philos-ophies that produce uncertain judgments. If there is such thing as absolute moral certainty, we are going to have to let go of our preconceived expectations of the export of rational thought, and let experience tell us how to get there.

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5. Kant, Immanuel “Critique on Reason”6. Kaufman, Walter Arnold. Discovering The Mind.

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9. Lippmann, Walter. Public Opinion. New York: Free Press Paperbacks, 1922.

10. Locke, John. “The Two Treatise of Government” The Two Treatises of Government and A Letter Con-cerning Toleration (2003)

11. Locke, John. An Essay Concerning Human Un-derstanding. New York: Prometheus Books, 1995.

12. Nisbett, Richard E., and Wilson, Timothy Decamp “Telling More Than We Can Know: Verbal Reports on Mental Processes.” Psychological Review (1977)

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holoCaust as aBErration: hoW oral historiEs PartiCularizE thE holoCaust

Carrie Filipetti

two major interpretations of the Holocaust dominate scholarship on the subject. one views the Holocaust as an historical aberration; the second understands the Holocaust as an outgrowth of a natural human inclination toward violence and scapegoating. While Holocaust literature is a sub-ject rife with historical and literary analysis, none has yet given necessary attention to why these two interpretations exist, and what they each say about their supporters. the purpose of this pa-per is to engage with the question of how the Holocaust has been conveyed to the world, how it has been mythologized and historicized; and precisely who is responsible for that phenomenon.this study analyzes major works of Holocaust literature and compares the perspective enumer-ated by the authors, all of whom were themselves survivors, with the perspective offered by oral histories. The research emphasizes four major points of contention: first, it focuses atten-tion on the motivations that instigate the individual’s investigation of the Holocaust. second, it studies the depictions of Nazi party members, with an emphasis on humanization/homog-enization versus individuation. third, it analyzes the portrayal of Jews and their placement within or outside of an explicit good vs. evil context; and finally, it addresses the particular approach to chronology taken by both survivors and secondary historians. Ultimately, the pur-pose of the paper is to demonstrate that the agenda commonly attached to the collection of oral histories, as well as the themes they choose to underscore, serve to characterize the Ho-locaust as an aberration rather than continuous development of history. In contrast, the work of survivors is explicit in the clear thematic and historical continuity between then and now; that is, the Holocaust is unique, but it does not have to be – and, in all likelihood, will not be.

The purpose of this paper is to show how oral his-tories have both particularized and historicized

the Holocaust in a way that contrasts with the work of survivors. That is, the agenda commonly attached to the collection of oral histories, as well as the themes they choose to underscore, serve to further character-ize the Holocaust as an aberration rather than a de-velopment of history.

First, we will investigate the motivations pro-vided by survivors and compare them with the mo-tivations of oral historians. This will demonstrate that survivors write with a preventative inclination whereas oral historians conduct their research with an informative inclination. Next, we will analyze the way in which each genre depicts Nazis, showing that the emphasis on Nazi brutality and the de-indi-vidualization of Nazi party members is prevalent in oral histories, contrasts with the focus on daily life and individualized Nazis that characterize survi-vors’ works. By representing Nazis as an amorphous,

Carrie Filipetti is a graduating fourth year in Religious Studies with a concentration in Judaism. Her focus in undergraduate studies has been Jewish history and Bibli-cal criticism, with some forays into ritual and philosophy. Originally from West Nyack, NY, Carrie will be pursuing a Fellowship in Israel for two months this summer before moving to NYC as a Tikvah Fellow for a year.


semi-corporate machine rather than simple men and women, the oral historians strip all humanness from their decisions, thereby removing them entirely from the experiences of modern generations. Then, we will study the representation of Jews, ultimately showing that whereas survivors make them relatable figures who ferociously struggle with their conditions, oral historians place them within a larger pure good vs. pure evil framework that mythologizes the Holo-caust, once again, serving to further remove the Ho-locaust from human responsibility. Finally, we will investigate how the books approach chronology, con-cluding that because oral historians are so emphatic on locating the Holocaust in history, it loses the con-temporary relevance so central to survivors’ works. In this way, it will be clear that while both survivors and oral historians view the Holocaust as unique, only survivors see clear thematic and historical con-tinuity between then and now; that is, it is unique, but it does not have to be – and, in all likelihood, will not be. Oral historians, on the other hand, because of their motivations for writing, their treatment of Jews and Nazis, and their stringent linear chronology, serve to both particularize and historicize the Holo-caust, stripping it of all relevancy to the modern age.

Before delving into the research, it is first im-portant to justify my choice of sources. My primary sources for survivor literature include Elie Wiesel’s Night1, Imre Kertesz’s Fatelessness2, Primo Levi’s Sur-vival in Auschwitz3, Paul Steinberg’s Speak You Also4, and Jean Amery’s At the Mind’s Limits5. My purpose for choosing these works was three-fold. First, all of them were produced by survivors of Auschwitz. Though all of them were at other camps at some other point – Dachau, Buchenwald, etc. – Auschwitz was a central part of their lived experience. While works on other camps can certainly supplement my thesis, “it is not simple to find a common denomi-nator for these…camps.”6 With that in mind, I have selected these books to keep as much consistency as possible, keeping in mind the vast body of sur-vivor literature that exists. Second, I choose works that included a wide range of literary genres; that is, Wiesel and Levi’s memoirs, Amery’s collection of essays, Kertesz’s semi-autobiographical novel, and Steinberg’s writings, best categorized along with Wi-esel and Levi’s memoirs but is, in actuality, more of a stream-of-consciousness reflection. Each of these genres lends itself to different forms of expression, all 1 Wiesel, Elie. Night. Trans. Marion Wiesel. (New York: Hill and Wang, 2006)2 Kertesz, Imre. Fatelessness. Trans. Tim Wilkinson. (Evanston: Random House, 2004)3 Levi, Primo. Survival in Auschwitz. Trans. Stuart Woolf. (New York: Touchstone, 1996)4 Steinberg, Paul. Speak You Also. Trans. Linda Cover-dale. (New York: Henry Holt and Co, 2000) 5 Amery, Jean.At the Mind’s Limits.Trans. Sidney Rosen-feld. (Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1980)6 Ibid., 6.

of which will be studied in relation to their function within their particular genre. Third, and finally, all of the authors hail from a different location: Wiesel is from Transylvania; Kertesz, Hungary; Levi, Italy; Steinberg, France; Amery, Austria. Choosing authors from various regions ensured that I would not be in-advertently representing the opinions of French Jews, for example, rather than survivors as a generalized whole7.

As representative of oral histories, I studied Lu-cette Valensi and Nathan Wachtel’s Jewish Memories8, Harry James Corgas’s Voices from the Holocaust9, Rho-da Lewin’s Witness to the Holocaust: An Oral History10, the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum’s (USHMM, henceforth) Oral History Interview Guide-lines11, Claude Lanzmann’s Shoah12, and Art Spie-gelman’s Maus I13 and Maus II14. My emphasis will be on Shoah, Maus I and Maus II, and USHMM. The purpose of focusing on these works in particular is because of their prominence in both popular culture and oral history research. The USHMM is at the fore-front of conducting oral histories, and both Shoah and Maus have received uncommon attention. Because I am studying how oral histories function in the eyes of their readers/listeners, I have sought to ensure that the works I have studied have been widely re-ceived. The other works listed will serve largely to supplement my investigation into the main sources. Occasionally, I will also draw in outside sources to further underscore a particular theme or technique.

A few flaws of my research must be conveyed at the outset. Firstly, within all of the books and oral his-tories investigated lies a vastness of opinion and in-terpretation that, for the purposes of the generalized study at hand, must be consolidated. Each author comes from a different socio-intellectual background, with Jean Amery as a self-identified intellectual15, Steinberg as a gambler16, Wiesel as a mystic17, etc., and all of these “former lives”18 have understandably 7 As much as they can be generalized; see section on flaws. 8 Valensi, Lucette. Jewish Memories. (Berkeley: California UP, 1991)9 Corgas, Harry James. Voices from the Holocaust. (Lex-ington: Kentucky UP, 1993)10 Lewin, Rhoda. Witness to the Holocaust: An Oral His-tory. (Boston: Twayne Publishers, 1990)11 United States Holocaust Memorial Museum. Oral His-tory Interview Guidelines.(Washington, D.C., USHMM, 1998)12 Lanzmann, Claude. Shoah: The Complete Text of the Acclaimed Holocaust Film. (New York: Da Capo Press, 1995) (henceforth, Shoah)13 Spiegelman, Art. Maus. (New York: Pantheon Books, 1986) (henceforth, Maus)14 Spiegelman, Art. Maus II. (New York: Pantheon Books, 1991) (henceforth, Maus II) 15 Amery, 2.16 Steinberg, 3.17 Weisel, 3.18 Steinberg, 79.


influenced not only their experiences in the camps but also their reflection and reconciliation of those experiences. In certain instances, then, my statements and interpretations will appear overly homogeniz-ing. Though I do attempt to pay proper respect and attention to different perspectives, in the interest of space constraints those viewpoints that are particu-larly exceptional will have to be relegated to a foot-note. Secondly, I freely admit to – and embrace – a lack of complete objectivity in analyzing Holocaust literature and approaching Jewish themes in general because of my deep personal identification with Ju-daism and my personal political affiliation. I, there-fore, have a natural sensitivity to the idea of particu-larizing the Holocaust, which I am sure has played a consequential role in the development of my thesis. Third – and this is not particular to my research but rather to the subject at hand – much of what survi-vors write contradicts other claims they made previ-ously. This makes it all the more difficult to draw out an overarching perspective from each work; to com-bat this, however, I have chosen to be more inclusive than exclusive. That is, I will include their contradic-tions as a vital part of their perspective rather than attempt to gloss over them for the sake of uniformity.

Despite these shortcomings, however, this paper provides a well-documented and necessary inquiry into two related genres—the writings of survivors and the conducting of oral histories—that have a valuable place among existing Holocaust scholar-ship, as it engages with the question of how the Ho-locaust has been conveyed to the world. Moreover, it focuses on a particular question – how has the Holo-caust has been mythologized and historicized? – and precisely who is responsible for that phenomenon.

Survivors and oral historians provide very differ-ent reasons for their investigation into the Holocaust, and it is these motivations to which we first turn. Un-derstanding why each individual has undertaken to preserve the memory of the Holocaust allows us to better account for his/her particular thematic choices later on. It is the motivation for writing that serves as the foundation for whether or not a work as a whole historicizes or mythologizes the Holocaust.

Survivors of the Holocaust, as a general rule, write with the understanding that their stories are important to tell not merely as a point of history but rather as a point of prevention; that is, they write with the underlying assumption that the evil they experienced, though unique, has at the very least the potential to be repeated.This is not to say that the sur-vivors do not struggle with the question of why they write. In fact, Wiesel indicates the uncertainty with which he undertakes the project, asking himself:

“Why did I write it? Did I write it so as not to go mad or, on the contrary, to go mad in order to under-stand the nature of madness, the immense, terrifying madness that had erupted in history and in the con-science of mankind? Was it to leave behind a legacy

of words, of memories, to help prevent history from repeating itself? Or was it simply to preserve a record of the ordeal I endured as an adolescent?” 19

Similarly, Paul Steinberg is not unclear on why he is writing, only on “what he want[s] to avoid.”20The fact that both Wiesel and Steinberg question their in-tentions is important in two ways. First, it indicates the importance of understanding why we write, the task to which we have turned. Second, it hints at the idea that there is something unexplainable that lies behind their decision to write, something that Wiesel ultimately describes as a moral obligation, revealing, “The witness has forced himself to testify. For the youth of today, for the children who will be born to-morrow. He does not want his past to become their future.”21The use of the term “forced”—along with the preventative explanation provided— is more tell-ing of his motivations in writing than his series of questions are. That is, it plainly points to an outside driver that compels him to write, despite his person-al reluctance to do so. What is this force? In his own words, “moral obligation.”22Steinberg likewise views his authorship in similar terms; that is, “I’m purg-ing myself as I write, and I have a vague feeling not of liberation, but of fulfilled obligation.”23Steinberg, though ostensibly writing to deliver himself from the world of Nazi atrocities24, is therefore similar to Wi-esel in that both view the compilation of their works as the fulfillment of some sort of moral obligation.

What, then, is the moral obligation? It is here that the survivors deviate from oral historians in a tan-gible way, for unlike the historians, who as we will soon see write largely to preserve history, the survi-vors are writing to prevent future disasters. By that I mean that they are, for the most part, explicit in their attempt to connect the horrors of the past with con-temporary experiences. For Wiesel, this is done in three ways, all of which are intimately connected to what he ultimately settles on as his primary motiva-tion. First, he connects his past at Auschwitz with his personal life today. Second, he emphasizes the abil-ity of man to move back and forth between madness, thereby indicating that it is not a particularistic trait; and third, he expresses an interest in preventing simi-lar things from happening in the future, thereby re-vealing his belief that these atrocities are not merely the problems of the past.

Wiesel connects his life in Auschwitz to his choic-es of today. “If in my lifetime I was to write only one book,” he states, “this would be the one. Just as the past lingers in the present, all my writings after Night, including those that deal with biblical, Talmu-dic, or Hasidic themes, profoundly bear its stamp,

19 Wiesel, vii.20 Steinberg, 62.21 Wiesel, xv.22 Ibid., viii. 23 Steinberg, 63.24 Ibid., 14-15.


and cannot be understood if one has not read this very first of my works.”25 Similarly, he admits, “I only know that without this testimony, my life as a writer—or my life, period—would not have become what it is.”26 Auschwitz, for Wiesel, was not left in the 1940s. It exists not as a distant theory but as a real-ity that affects his present life no less than it affected his past. By locating Auschwitz in his present rather than his past, Wiesel presents a view of Auschwitz as a modern reality.

Wiesel also implies that madness is not some-thing that affects only a small segment of the popu-lation. Instead, he asks, “Did I write it so as not to go mad or, on the contrary, to go mad in order to un-derstand the nature of madness, the immense, ter-rifying madness that had erupted in history and in the conscience of mankind?”27 Here Wiesel indicates that it is possible to move into the realm of madness, and more importantly, that it is unclear where mad-ness lies. Does madness lie in the investigation into the atrocities or in the lack of investigation? This blurred definition of madness, as well as the ease with which one can traverse its realm, has a clear im-plication: that which one can call “mad” and, there-fore, a deviation from nature,is not. Madness is not contrary to man, it is an aspect of man, into which one can cross with much fluidity and ease. In such a way, Wiesel once again locates the Holocaust – and its cause, insofar as one can accept madness as its cause—in the present.

Finally, Wiesel ultimately settles on his moti-vation being the prevention of a similar atrocity; in such a way, he overtly states that the Holocaust is not something that can be relegated to history alone. While it is true that he emphasizes the par-ticular history of the Holocaust in that he wants “to try to prevent the enemy from enjoying one last vic-tory by allowing his crimes to be erased from human memory,”28he connects the idea of forgetting these crimes to a repetition of them. That is, recording his experiences is not meant only to indict the enemy, but also to prevent him from committing atrocities in the future. This is obvious in the afore-mentioned pas-sage, “For the youth of today, for the children who will be born tomorrow. He does not want his past to become their future.”29The implication here is that Auschwitz can become their future; therefore, once again Wiesel chooses to locate the Holocaust in the present rather than only in the past. Wiesel’s purpose in writing, then, is clear – it is to use his reality, what he calls his “testimony,”30 not merely to inform future generations of what the Holocaust was but to prevent those generations from experiencing what it is.

25 Wiesel, vii.26 Ibid., viii. 27 Ibid., vii. 28 Ibid., viii. 29 Ibid., xv. 30 Ibid., viii.

Steinberg’s central motivation for writing his book is for it to serve as a personal deliverance31. Despite this more introspective spin, however, Steinberg, like Wiesel,refuses to relegate the Holocaust to a past mo-ment in history.In his eyes, he writes because “We live within parentheses, a reprieve that has lasted fifty years.”32“Parentheses” is a term that implies a continuation, the lack of an end. The reprieve—the lack of systemic anti-Semitism— has lasted so far, but it exists only as a temporary deviation from the norm. Steinberg articulates precisely this as his reason for writing his memoir, for “Perhaps this risky expedi-tion will allow me to give an account—unsettling, no doubt—of the world from which perhaps I have not escaped even after half a century.”33 Steinberg is writ-ing, then, not so much to inform others, as to deliver himself. That said, Steinberg indicates that he has “not escaped” Auschwitz, even in the 1990s when he composed his book. It is for this reason – that Aus-chwitz has persisted to his present, that he is writing.

Amery is perhaps most explicit of all in his pur-pose for writing. Unlike Steinberg, who writes for personal deliverance, he rejects the notion of cathar-sis34. Instead, he writes for two reasons: first, to locate the Holocaust within a larger framework of his life, and second, to make the Holocaust relevant to the modern world. Both of these motivations can be tied back to the overarching idea of rejecting the notion of the Holocaust as a past moment in time.

Amery’s first reason for composing his series of essays is to connect the Holocaust to something more than a point of history. As he explains, “At first….I merely wanted to become clear about a special prob-lem: the situation of the intellectual in the concentra-tion camp. But when this essay was completed, I felt that it was impossible to leave it at that. For how had I gotten to Auschwitz? What had taken place before that? What was to happen afterward? What is my situation today?”35Amery finds it of supreme impor-tance, then, to connect these experiences of the past to the present and explain how they have played out in his present life. His motivation, then, is to reject the compulsion to relegate the Holocaust to a moment of history. To Amery, it is more than a moment; it is the proof of this is the purpose of his work.

Amery’s second reason for writing is to make the Holocaust a moral reality even for those who them-selves neither experienced nor perpetuated it. As he explains, there is a lack of understanding among those who were neither Nazis nor survivors36. He writes, then, to “be a witness not only to what real Fascism and singular Nazism were, but…also [to]

31 Steinberg, 163.32 Ibid., 14. 33 Ibid., 14-15. 34 Amery, xi.35 Ibid., xiii. 36 Ibid., ix.


be an appeal to German youth for introspection.”37 The intended audience, then, is German youth. While at first this may seem odd— after all, the youth had little to do with the Holocaust and thus it seems un-warranted to hold them morally responsible—Amery explains that “At stake for me is the release from the abandonment that has persisted from that time until today.”38 The importance of having German youth as the audience is to show that “My resentments are there in order that the crime to become a moral [rather than merely factual] reality for the criminal, in order that he be swept into the truth of his atrocity.”39 The crime, then, is not a past historical fact but a rel-evant moral dilemma that exists to today. It is for that reason that he writes to “the Germans…who in their overwhelming majority do not, or no longer, feel affected by the darkest and at the same time most characteristic deeds of the Third Reich.”40 His ulti-mate goal, then, is to make relevant the actions of the past to the modern present; to allow non-survivors to “contemplate a fact that yesterday could have been and tomorrow can be theirs.”41 In such a way, he wants the world to understand the Holocaust as more than a mere accident of history. “‘Hear, oh Is-rael,’ is not my concern,” he writes.“Only a ‘hear, oh world’ wants angrily to break out from within me.”42

We have therefore seen through Wiesel, Steinberg, and Amery that a central motivation for survivor lit-erature is to make the Holocaust relevant to today; that is, to locate its legacy within modern times and not exclusively within the past. This is not to say sur-vivors don’t view the Holocaust as unique; they do. After all, Amery views it as “singular Nazism”43and Steinberg and Levi imply that their experiences are so unique so as to separate them from the rest of hu-man-kind44. The point is not to claim the Holocaust happened before or since the Third Reich, it is simply to argue that, though it is unique, it does not have to be unique. The survivors write with a common as-sumption that what happened once may, if they do not serve as witnesses, happen again.

Oral historians, however, locate the Holocaust in a particular moment of history, with the underly-ing assumption that what happened to them will not happen again;therefore, their stories are important only insofar as they preserve as a record of a since lost world.

LucetteValensi and Nathan Wachtel undertook an extensive oral history program that ultimately resulted in the book Jewish Memories.The central mo-tivation of Jewish Memories is apparent in Valensi’s

37 Ibid., x. 38 Ibid., 70. 39 Ibid. 40 Ibid., xiv. 41 Ibid., 93.42 Ibid., 100. 43 Ibid., x. 44 See: Steinberg, 85; Levi, 87.

opening remarks to her interviewees: “Your his-tory is important. The society you belonged to no longer exists. It passed away without leaving any archives and you were witnesses to an eventful pe-riod. Tell us about it.”45Within this one statement one can begin to discern a contrast between Valensi and Wachtel’s purpose and the purpose articulated by survivors. First, the emphasis is not on personal experiences – that is, only one sentence is devoted to “your history;” the rest is interested in “the society you belonged to.” When they ask “tell us about it,” the “it” is not one’s life but rather the “eventful pe-riod” in which they lived. The motivation, then, is to get a generalized sense of time and place rather than of personal experiences—a motivation that con-trasts with not only the individual words of the sur-vivors but also with the memoir/novel structure that has been employed by survivors. Most importantly, however, Valensi explicitly argues that “the society you belonged to no longer exists” thus underscoring the point that oral historians view the Holocaust as a long-since-passed aberration. Her purpose, then, is to learn about the Holocaust to inform humanity of a past age rather than to make that past relevant to contemporary existence. This emphasis on locating the Holocaust in a moment in time is obvious in her framework as well, which is similarly organized by time and place, including “Salonika between the two wars”46, “Tripoli between 1908 and 1920,”47 and “Tu-nis at the beginning of the Century.”48 Therefore, the purpose of Jewish Memories is to provide an objective historical record of a bygone era.

Rhoda Lewin, like LucetteValensi and Nathan Wachtel, similarly decided to conduct an oral history, the result of which is called Witness to the Holocaust: An Oral History. In it, her goal “was to create teach-ing materials…in part to discredit the so-called schol-ars who were saying that the Holocaust was wholly imaginary.”49The agenda of her work, then, is not unlike Valensi’s. She fears that, if a record is not pro-duced, the world will not only forget what happened during the Holocaust but will outright deny it. It is her mission, then, to provide uncontestable evidence that the Holocaust is a part of human history. Unlike the survivors, however, there is no overarching sense that such an atrocity could happen again, there is only the sense that she must preserve a record of the events themselves. Therefore, Lewin’s oral history likewise is motivated by a desire to relate the events of an historical event with the intent to inform rather than prevent.

The United States Holocaust Memorial Museum (USHMM) is one of the central foundations that con-ducts oral histories related to the Holocaust in the

45 Valensi, 1.46 Ibid., 33. 47 Ibid., 30. 48 Ibid., 25. 49 Lewin, xviii.


United States. Because of its reputation for accurate and well-researched data, it produced a guidebook in which it indicates what its purpose is in conducting such histories; that is, “An individual’s testimony can supplement those documents by providing a detailed and personal look at a historical event that may be underrepresented or even unrepresented in written works.”50 The goal, then, is to fill the gaps of existing research on the Holocaust but to do so in a way that is “accessible and usable for the listener.”51Because the understanding of the audience is central to the success of filling the gaps, one must “place the inter-viewee’s experiences in historical context.”52 Once again, then, there is an explicit emphasis on histori-cizing the Holocaust that is intimately tied in with the motivation for conducting the interview.Once again, then, the goal is to inform individuals on a past event – it is the historicity, not the surrounding themes of evil, humanity, and survival – that is important.

Claude Lanzmann’s film Shoah, however, pro-vides a take on oral histories that is more in tune with the survivors than the other oral historians we have thus far reviewed. That is, his goal is to “some-how communicate to an audience something of the degradation and horror experienced by millions of innocents.”53While this contrasts with Steinberg and Amery who, as we will see, choose not to explore Nazi brutality, he is at least responding to the same problem as the survivors are – that is, a sense of the Holocaust as an “operational accident of history”54 that bears no weight on modernity. While is he con-cerned about the “forgetting and rejection of the Holocaust”55a la Lewin, he is not interested in merely recounting history56. Instead, “the film is the abolition of all distance between past and present.”57 As he ex-plains, “a film devoted to the Holocaust can only be a countermyth. It can only be an investigation into the present of the Holocaust or at least into a past whose scars are still so freshly and vividly inscribed in cer-tain places and in the consciences of some people that it reveals itself in a hallucinating timelessness.”58The promotion of this timelessness—the weaving togeth-er of past and present – is a precise reflection of the central motivation of his work: that is, to combat the current discourse on the Holocaust that “excise[s] it from history with the pretext that it was only an

50 USHMM, v.51 Ibid., vii. 52 Ibid., vii. 53 Lanzmann, Claude. “From the Holocaust to ‘Holocaust.’”Claude Lanzmann’sShoah. Ed. Stuart Lieb-man (New York: Oxford UP, 2007). P. 454 Amery, 79.55 Lanzmann, 33.56 Ibid., 39. 57 Chevre, Marc. “Site and Speech: An Interview with Claude Lanzmann about Shoah.” Claude Lanzmann’sShoah. Ed. Stuart Liebman (New York: Oxford UP, 2007). P. 4558 Lanzmann, 35.

aberration.”59 Therefore, Lanzmann’s Shoah stands out among oral histories as, at least in motivation, the least particularizing of the oral histories reviewed. Perhaps, he best sums it up when he says, “I consider the Holocaust an unqualifiedly historical event, the monstrous, yes, but legitimate product of the history of the western world.”60 By creating a film that for-wards this ideology as part of its motivation, Shoah is a prime example of an oral history that does not particularize the Holocaust.

Thus, what informs the survivors in their desire to record their stories is the assumption that, with-out their words, mankind would again perpetuate a similar atrocity. Contrastingly, what informs the oral historians, other than Claude Lanzmann, is that the Holocaust is a historical event that must be recorded so as to preserve a vestige of what is assumed to be an otherwise deceased world.

While the motivation for writing memoirs and conducting oral histories helps us better understand how survivors and subsequent generations view the Holocaust (and, in a small sense, human nature as it relates to the Holocaust), the way the two genres treat particular themes demonstrates that this motivation is manifested throughout their works; that is, oral historians, because of their historical bent, continue to particularize the Holocaust within their thematic choices. While, survivors reflect their desire to por-tray the relevance the Holocaust bears on modern society by creating relatable figures in both Jews and Nazis, oral historians instead use these same themes to further characterize the Holocaust as an historical accident.

In analyzing the depiction of Nazis, we will take a two-pronged approach. First, we will focus on the image of the individual Nazi, and second, we will fo-cus on the magnitude of the violence portrayed.

Survivors, as a general rule, describe Nazis not as a corporate, faceless machine but rather as individu-als. As Amery explains:

Many things do indeed happen approximately the way they were anticipated In the imagination: Gesta-po men in leather coats, pistol pointed at their victim – that is correct, all right. But then, almost amazingly, it dawns on one that the fellows not only have leather coats and pistols, but also faces: not ‘Gestapo faces’ with twisted noses, hypertrophied chins, pockmarks, and knife scars, as might appear in a book, but rather faces like anyone else’s. Plain, ordinary faces.”61

Amery does not, however, provide this human-quality to the Nazis in order to give them humanity; rather, in keeping with his afore-mentioned motiva-tion, he does so to give humanity a sense of the evil-ness that it can hide under a kindly façade. Amery describes one particular Nazi—the one who tor-

59 Ibid., 29. 60 Ibid., 28. 61 Amery, 25.


tures him— as appearing “gruffly good-natured.”62 Steinberg beautifully encapsulates this dichotomy between the phenotype of a Nazi and his inner wick-edness by similarly relaying his experiences with a particular Nazi, Hauptscharfuhrer Rakasch:

“Absolute evil. Today, with fifty years’ perspective and experience, I realize he was a deeply depraved man…Rakasch is dressed completely in black, head to toe, cap to boots. His black-gloved hands, in sum-mer as in winter, firmly grip his black leather whip. All you can see of him is his face, framed by his cap and the collar of his tunic. The face is androgynous: delicate features, sharp nose, thin, pale lips. His eyes are a washed-out blue, and always on the lookout—nothing escapes them, their all-around vision. They are perfectly expressionless. His voice is calm, clear, distinct…I first saw him at work a few weeks after my arrival. He beat an old Gypsy and then drowned him in a puddle of water eight inches deep, pinning the man’s head down with his boot.”63

This particular description of a Nazi is informative in a few ways. First, it names the Nazi, giving him not only physical features but also a discernible identity. Second, it connects Rakasch with a category of per-sons – that is, the depraved – rather than explaining his evilness as something entirely outside of human-ity. Third, though he is showing brutality, he is as-sociating it with an individual who can be conceived; that is, one we can imagine “had a mother, a father, maybe brothers and sisters, that he was perhaps mar-ried, that he even had children…that he occasionally laughed, went to the movies.”64 The Nazis in Stein-berg’s book, then, are “delicate;” and yet, despite this, they still possess within them the terrifying ability to “drown [a Gypsy] in a puddle of water eight inches deep.” Describing Nazis in positive terms is in fact common to survivor literature, as Kertesz refers to them as “honest,”65 “pretty friendly,”66 and “unfail-ingly jovial and encouraging.”67 He, too, touches on the implications of the absurd assumption that one’s evilness will be manifested in one’s outward appear-ance. Writing of a Nazi doctor, he explains, “I imme-diately felt a sense of trust in the doctor, since he cut a very fine figure, with sympathetic, longish, shaven features, rather narrow lips, and kind-looking blue or gray—at any rate pale—eyes.”68 Here, Kertesz con-nects outward appearance with our own personal comfort level. Though the doctor was a Nazi, he was “kind-looking” and “sympathetic,” and therefore, he was trusted, despite the reality of his vice. This serves as a warning to which all can relate – the idea that one’s outward appearance does not reflect their in-

62 Amery, 32.63 Steinberg, 108.64 Ibid., 108. 65 Kertesz, 60.66 Ibid., 62. 67 Ibid., 94. 68 Ibid., 85.

ward personality; therefore, the survivor’s emphasis on giving individual, and often times positive, char-acteristics to Nazis is a means to connect to the indi-vidual experiences of the reader and to give them a sense of the fact that Nazis were human, even if they did not behave humanely.

Furthermore, while survivors do indeed depict Nazi brutality, they are more interested in portray-ing daily camp life. When they do refer to Nazis, it is largely to convey a sense of power rather than viciousness in and of itself. Amery states his lack of interest in relaying the horrors of Nazi brutality, for “people have already heard far too much about [the corpses, death, etc.]; it belongs to the category of hor-rors mentioned at the outset, those which I was ad-vised with good intentions not to discuss in detail.”69 Steinberg is similarly intent on not depicting “the museum of horrors, the litany of atrocities.”70 In-stead, both choose to connect any brutality with the dynamics of power rather than to emphasize the incomprehensible violence itself. Amery describes Nazi power by asking, “For is not the one who can reduce a person so entirely to a body and a whimper-ing prey of death a god or, at least, a demigod.”71This is an example of the most prominent technique the survivors use to depict Nazi power – describing them as gods. Steinberg uses this technique when he refers to Nazis, along with any of the camp aristocracy, as gods, saying, “Per chance a dues ex machina – an SS officer, a Kapo, a block boss—precipitates the finale with a bullet, a pickax blow, a clubbing.”72 While this is without a doubt an example of Nazi viciousness, the purpose is the almost divine status ascribed to the Nazi members – the atrocities committed are simply proofs of their nature rather than the focus of the dis-course. Levi, too, employs this technique, pointing out, “Some [prisoners], bestially, urinate while they run to save time, because within five minutes begins the distribution of bread, of bread-Brot-Broid-chleb-pain-lechem-kayner, of the holy grey slab which seems gigantic in your neighbour’s hand, and in your own hand so small as to make you cry.”73 Combining this with his earlier characterization of camp life, one can easily see the prominence of depicting Nazis as gods while simultaneously emphasizing daily camp life rather than Nazi brutality:

“The rites to be carried out were infinite and senseless: every morning one had to make the ‘bed’ perfectly flat and smooth; smear one’s muddy and re-pellent wooden shoes with the appropriate machine grease; scrape the mudstains off one’s clothes…in the evening one had to undergo the control for lice and the control of washing one’s feet; on Saturdays, have one’s beard and hair shaved, mend or have mended

69 Amery, 15-16. 70 Steinberg, 62.71 Amery, 36.72 Steinberg, 73.73 Levi, 39.


one’s rags; on Sunday, undergo the general control for skin diseases and the control of buttons on one’s jacket, which had to be five.”74

What is given by the Nazis is described as “holy” and what is performed on a day to day basis are “rites.” This religious language sets up the Nazis as gods in the same way that Amery and Steinberg’s overt characterizations do. Equally importantly, however, is how Levi chooses to emphasize daily camp life rather than Nazi brutality. His questions are not “why are they doing this to me?” but rather “…when will they distribute the soup tomorrow? And will I be able to eat it without a spoon? And where will I be able to find one? And where will they send me to work?”75 It is daily life and its concomitant questions, rather than the cases of extreme Nazi bru-tality that consume the thoughts of survivors. This is likewise true for Wiesel, whose emphasis lies on daily life and Jewish experiences rather than the Nazi imposition upon them. For example, Wiesel admits “I watched other hangings,”76 rather than saying “the Nazis hanged more Jews.” In so phrasing, Wi-esel chooses not to focus on Nazi crimes but rather Jewish responses.

Kertesz employs a different technique to under-mine Nazi brutality, though his purpose remains the same. What the Nazis do, in his eyes, is natural, and it is the repetition of this justification that pervades the novel.77Crimes against humanity are considered “unavoidable”78 or even “understandable.”79 In one of his more haunting paragraphs, Kertesz writes of an exchange between the main character, GyörgyKöves, and a journalist upon Köves’s liberation:

“‘Why, my dear boy,’ he exclaimed, though now, so it seemed to me, on the verge of losing his pa-tience, ‘do you keep on saying ‘naturally,’ and always about things that are not at all natural?’ I told him that in a concentration camp they were natural. ‘Yes, of course, of course,’ he says, ‘they were there, but…,’ and he broke off, hesi-tating slightly, ‘but…I mean, a concentration camp in itself is unnatural,’ finally hitting on the right word as it were. I didn’t bother saying anything to this, as I was beginning slowly to realize that it seems there are some things you just can’t argue about with strangers, the igno-rant, with those who, in a certain sense, are mere children so to say.”80

74 Ibid., 34. 75 Levi, 38.76 Wiesel, 63.77 See: Kertesz, 87, 170, 174. 78 Kertesz, 174.79 Ibid., 224. 80 Ibid., 247.

Here Kertesz explicitly explains his reasons for using words like “natural” and “understandable” – it is not only to focus on daily camp life rather than Nazi brutality, but is also to explain that, in fact, what was happening in the camps was natural – natural in a way that non-survivors cannot understand. De-scribing the Nazis in such a way is precisely the pur-pose of depicting them as individuals and emphasiz-ing their power: while future generations will try to strip human responsibility from the Holocaust by viewing it as an accident or aberration of nature, sur-vivors attempt to combat this image by portraying Nazis as potentially one’s neighbor or one’s friend; to them, Nazis are merely the expression of a natural being corrupted not by being inhuman but merely by wielding human power.

Such a depiction is visibly absent from oral histo-ries, which instead serve to locate Nazism within a larger Good vs. Evil framework. Instead of focusing on daily life, oral historians focus on Nazi brutality and the terrifying atrocities committed by the Third Reich. Moreover, their description of Nazis is over-generalized and corporate, lending itself to the natu-ral inclination to deny human responsibility by de-personalizing the perpetrators of the Holocaust and mythologize rather than humanize their violence.

To best embody this second aspect, we will first relate the writings of Cynthia Ozick. Though not an oral historian, her work impeccably demonstrates the “otherness” ascribed to the Nazis by non-survivors. As she explains in her short story The Shawl, “Above the shoulder [that carried Magda] a helmet glinted. The light tapped the helmet and sparkled it into a goblet. Below the helmet a black body like a domino and a pair of black boots hurled themselves in the direction of the electrified fence.”81 Here, Nazis are described not as humans but as a combination of a helmet, domino, and boots. Ozick’s Nazi, in contra-distinction from Steinberg’s and Amery’s, is not only unnamed, he is an object, a machine – at the very least, he is not human. This, along with the continu-ous description of Nazis as an unnamed “they,” de-notes the depersonalization of Nazis in non-survivor literature.

Maus continues this theme of stripping the Nazis of any relatable human identity. By portraying Nazis as cats, Spiegelman implies that all Nazis were snarl-ing, sharp-toothed, and aggressive. Spiegelman fur-ther depersonalizes them in his refusal to draw Nazis differently. Whereas one can easily distinguish Art, Vladek, and Mala, the Nazis are all homogenized into a single form82. As in Ozick’s novel, then, Maus, too depersonalizes the Nazis.

Beyond the depersonalization of Nazis, there is also the question of how prominent Nazi brutality is within oral histories. Once again, Maus is an espe-

81 Ozick, Cynthia. The Shawl.(New York: Knopf, 1989). p. 6.82 Maus, 41.


cially useful example, as the artwork is the creation of the non-survivor and thus provides a welcome indi-cation of how the words of survivors are envisioned by those in a culture in which Nazism has become so paradigmatically evil as to separate it fully from hu-manity. This is exceptionally clear in those instances in which the words of Vladek are reinterpreted by the images of his son. When Vladek simply says, “Some complained – those that were too old or weak for such work,”83 Spiegelman draws not a group of inmates refusing to work but rather a Nazi beating a mouse with the butt of his rifle. Even when the words are provided, Speigelman feels the freedom to reinterpret them through his art – how much more so, then, in the recorded oral histories, which can be edited or ignored so as to only include the opinions of those survivors consistent with the oral historians! As Valensi admits, “All we had to do was orchestrate that chorus [of voices], giving up a number of biogra-phies we had collected, and cutting large fragments of those we retained.”84

The USHMM, like Maus, emphasizes Nazism as the fundamental point of inquiry for oral historians, advising interviewers to “Demonstrate the kind of life and culture that was interrupted or destroyed by National Socialism…it is also important to draw out the interviewees earliest recollections of the Nazis.”85 The problem, however, is that it was not only the Nazis who perpetuated the crimes of the Holocaust. Poles and camp leaders like the Kapos are, in Wie-sel, Levi, Steinberg, and Kertesz’s eyes, responsible for much of their anguish during their imprison-ment – yet the USHMM, in its list of suggested ques-tions, never asks for information on them86. In such a way, then, the USHMM not only focuses on Nazism, which in and of itself relegates it to a purely histori-cal location, but it also fails to reflect reality – a real-ity in which many individuals, not just a corporate Nazism, were complicit in the extermination of mil-lions of people. By emphasizing Nazi brutality alone, then, not only do oral historians sensationalize and mythologize the Holocaust, they also reduce it to a purely “Nazi” phenomenon. Considering the reality of the complacency of millions, this further removes human responsibility from the act and continues to historicize the event.

Perhaps most emphatic of the role of Nazi brutal-ity is Claude Lanzmann, who, as previously demon-strated, had the visualization of Nazi brutality as his central motivator. When an interviewee states “they burned people here,” he clarifies “to the sky?” in or-der to underscore the hyperbole87. He continues this trend of asking questions to accentuate the severity of what is being said, often times not even question-

83 Ibid., 56. 84 Valensi, 2. 85 USHMM, 26. 86 Ibid., 27. 87 Shoah, 3.

ing but rather remarking on the mind-boggling na-ture of it. When another interviewee mentions Jews being forced to dig trenches for graves with just their hands, Lanzmann interjects “with just their hands!”88 Perhaps more importantly, Lanzmann even asserts answers that the interviewees are not providing so as to further stress Nazi brutality:

Lanzmann: What did the Germans do? Interviewee: They forced the Jews to… Lanzmann: They beat them?89

In such a way, Lanzmann uses an aggressive line of questioning to underscore Nazi violence. While he reads this as in keeping with his goal of combating those who trivialize the Holocaust, in reality, there is an implication that he seems to ignore; that is, by emphasizing the supreme horrors committed by the Nazi regime, he serves to inadvertently particularize the event. What commonality can one find with the smell of burning flesh wafting through miles of Pol-ish countryside?90 What possible humanity can one find in the gas chambers, or the senseless beating of an unarmed innocent simply because of his per-ceived race? By refusing to portray relatable circum-stances of the Holocaust and instead depicting Nazi brutality alone, oral histories strip the Holocaust of any relevancy for the generations in which National Socialism is not the central component91. In such a way, the Holocaust becomes effectively historicized.

It should be here noted that it is not that Nazi bru-tality does not exist in survivor literature – it does, as it well should, as that was the reality of the Ho-locaust. This is also not to say that Nazis were not singularly evil; Amery, in fact, seems to imply that all Germans bear responsibility for moral awareness92, and he continues to hold resentment for what was done to him and others. It is simply that survivors pay far more attention to more simple matters: mat-ters of soup, shoes, etc., rather than their interaction with the Nazis. This is in contradistinction to the oral histories, which are clear in focusing on Nazi atrocities as the crux upon which their collected tes-timonies rest. By focusing on the brutality of Nazis, however, oral histories lend themselves to particular-ization of the event. Only the Nazis could have done this. Particularly when this is combined with a lack of

88 Ibid., 15. 89 Ibid., 47. 90 Ibid., 46. 91 This is to say, the Holocaust and its associated horrors in and of themselves have a particularizing quality to them. They are, without a doubt, unparalleled and unimaginable to those who were not themselves witnesses to the atroci-ties. That said, survivors strike a balance between portray-ing this brutality and articulating other aspects of camp life that are, in fact, understandable and relatable. In such a way, they serve to de-particularize what is otherwise only further seen as evidence for the Holocaust being an aberration. 92 Amery, 73.


personalization of the Nazis, it is easy for readers to understand the Holocaust as perpetuated by some-thing other than human; and in such a way, the Ho-locaust becomes the very aberration against which Lanzmann warns.

Having investigated the depiction of Nazis with-in both genres, we now turn to the portrayal of Jews. Like our analysis of Nazis, our study of the Jews will be two-fold; that is, we will focus on how survivors and oral historians describe the lifestyle of Jews in the camps as well as how they describe the necessary conditions for survival.

As previously mentioned, survivors focus on camp life rather than Nazi brutality. As part of this camp life, Jews are portrayed not as men and women who march dignifiedly to their deaths but rather as animals struggling to survive. Far from finding ca-maraderie in their shared fate, Jews in the camps “had been reduced to vileness and humiliation,”93 with “…scores of prisoners driven desperate by hunger prowl[ing] around, with lips half-open and eyes gleaming, lured by a deceptive instinct to where the merchandise shown makes the gnawing of their stomachs more acute and their salvation more assiduous.”94 The animalistic associations continue in almost all of the survivor literature, with Jews simul-taneously being sheep95, farm animals96, and cattle97. Jews had a “…rage to live in spite of all obstacles, the perfectly irrational hope, the animal instinct that made us cling ferociously to life without letting go, not even for an instant, which would have proved fatal.”98 Beyond the animal associations, however, Jews are also overtly characterized as self-interested, irrational, and aggressive. Steinberg argues that Jews like himself who were able to make it up the camp aristocracy are a perfect example of human nature: “You do evil, if you have even the slightest scrap of power.”99 Here Levi agrees, writing, “…I already know that it is in the normal order of things that the privileged oppress the unprivileged: the social struc-ture of the camp is based on this human law.”100 What happened in the camps, then, is not contrary to hu-man nature – Jews were reduced to animals because it is within human nature to be so. Their behavior as animals carries with it a further implication, one that results in heart-wrenchingly brutal segments like Wi-esel’s description of his time on a train:

“A piece [of bread] fell into our wagon. I decided not to move. Anyway, I knew that I would not be strong enough to fight off dozens of violent men! I saw, not far from me, an old man drag-

93 Steinberg, 27. 94 Levi, 78. 95 Steinberg, 11, 47.96 Steinberg, 5497 Levi, 154. 98 Steinberg, 14. 99 Ibid., 108. 100 Levi, 44.

ging himself on all fours. He had just detached himself from the struggling mob. He was hold-ing one hand to his heart. At first I thought he had received a blow to his chest. Then I under-stood: he was hiding a piece of bread under his shirt. With lightening speed he pulled it out and put it to his mouth. His eyes lit up, a smile, like a grimace, illuminated his ashen fact. And was immediately extinguished. A shadow had lain down beside him. And this shadow threw itself over him. Stunned by the blows, the old man was crying: “Meir, my little Meir! Don’t you recognize me…You’re killing your father…I have bread…for you too…for you too…” He collapsed…The old man mumbled something, groaned, ad died. ..His son searched him, took the crust of bread, and began to devour it. He didn’t get far. Two men had been watching him. They jumped him. Others joined in. When they withdrew, there were two dead bodies next to me, the father and the son.”101

Life in the camps, then, was cruel not only be-cause of what the Nazis were doing to the Jews, but what the Jews were forced into doing to each other because of their conditions. Jews played practical jokes on each other that could have resulted in beat-ings or worse102, and though technically Jews had a choice—that is, to sharpen one’s wits and strengthen one’s will “or else, to throttle all dignity and kill all conscience, to climb down into the arena as a beast against other beasts, to let oneself be guided by those unsuspected subterranean forces which sustain fami-lies and individuals in cruel times”103 – their answer was largely the same: to become “the beasts they had made of us.”104

Following this characterization, those who did survive provide every reason for their survival other than being more fit or morally capable; more often than not, they attribute it to luck, and when they do not, their next option is to credit it to the complete moral debasement of man. “…it’s hard for me to present my behavior in an honorable –let alone glori-ous—light,”105 Steinberg begins, for his survival, in his eyes, was purely luck:

“That we won in the end, that the death ma-chine seized up and by some miracle allowed a few survivors to slip through the net, isn’t this reason enough to believe that somehow we were different?...Yet we are not special in any way, of

101 Wiesel, 101. 102 Levi, 28. 103 Ibid., 92. 104 Steinberg, 151. This is not to claim that there were no heroes and none who did march with dignity. This is simply to demonstrate that survival often reduced Jewish inmates to their very basic instincts, and thus understanding the vic-tims as pure good serves only to mythologize the Holocaust. 105 Ibid., 11.


course, save for the stubborn, persistent, flaw-less good fortune that made us the winners of this unlikely lottery. The proof is that the inde-structible ones, the iron men, lasted only a few months, and among the rare survivors are a few whom none of us would have given the ghost of a chance.”106

Luck, however, was not the only function that saved lives – so too was one’s successful eschewing of all human morality, according to Levi. In describ-ing particular survivors, Levi argues that “[Elias] has resisted the annihilation from within because he is in-sane…if Elias regains his liberty, he will be confined to the fringes of human society, in a prison or lunatic asylum.”107 Speaking of “Henri,” who is, in fact the very same Paul Steinberg we have been investigat-ing, Levi writes, “He is enclosed in armour, the ene-my of all, inhumanly cunning and incomprehensible like the Serpent in Genesis.”108 These are, without a doubt, not the moral heroes of Holocaust mythology. The point of the survivors, however, is not to defame the Jewish people but rather to be explicit in that, un-der the right conditions, anyone can fall into mad-ness and depravity. In such a way, survivors keep the Holocaust relevant to contemporary society in two ways: first, by refusing to mythologize themselves as uncommonly heroic, and second, by connecting their own brutality with the idea that human nature does not preclude the choice of evil. Under the appropriate conditions, anyone – even today – can behave with total moral ruination.

Kertesz and Amery, too, attach something else to their characterization of Jews: the naturalness of Jew-ish victimization. As Kertesz writes:

“It was obvious that from now on my lot could not go on as well as it had up till now, and he did not wish to make any secret about that, as he was talking to me ‘man-to-man.’ ‘You too,’ he said, ‘are now a part of the shared Jewish fate,’ and he then went on to elaborate that, remarking on this fate was one of ‘unbroken persecution that has lasted for millennia.’”109

Kertesz, then, sees his initiation into Judaism – a religion with which he did not previously identify – as beginning for him the cycle of oppression that had been felt by the Jewish people since the dawn of time. Amery agrees, writing, “To be a Jew, that meant for me, from this moment on, to be a dead man on leave, someone to be murdered, who only by chance was not yet where he properly belonged; and so it has re-mained, in my variations, in various degrees of inten-

106 Ibid., 14. 107 Levi, 97. 108 Ibid., 100. 109 Kertesz, 20.

sity, until today.”110 Even after the Holocaust, Amery “was forced to recognize that little had changed, that I was still the man condemned to be murdered in due time, even though the potential executioner now cautiously restrained himself or, at best, even loudly protested his disapproval of what had happened. I understood reality.”111 Survivors, then, depict as nat-ural not only the fall into madness but also the hu-man proclivity to oppress in the first place. In such a way, they further tie together the Holocaust and the modern age.

In contrast, oral historians attempt to set forth some sort of logical framework that explains why some Jews survived and why others did not. That is, they feel the need to assert Jewish survivors as heroes, placing them in a hero/villain context that both glosses over reality and mythologizes the Ho-locaust, thereby further removing it from human re-sponsibility. In Shoah, there are no questions on how one survived within the entire nine-hour production, nor are there any such questions in USHMM’s sug-gested list112. Furthermore, the USHMM seems to assume there is some sort of condition required for survival, for “If one’s education or background was not academic (for example, if the person were a trade or skilled laborer), that factor may have provided opportunities that saved his or her life.”113 This is in contradistinction to Amery, who implies that in Aus-chwitz, while some had a clear advantage in physi-cal strength, everyone soon came to be at the same level114. What the USHMM is doing, then, is trying to promote some sort of logical framework that would be able to rationalize how some lived and how oth-ers didn’t – a logical framework that, according to survivors, did not exist. By assuming that a formula existed for survival, oral historians make it easier to trivialize the Holocaust, and by not asking questions on how one survived, they are able to gloss over the complex reality of natural survival instinct and instead lay the groundwork for our next point: the representation of Jewish inmates as heroes.

Beyond asserting a logical framework to sur-vival, oral historians also depict Jewish survivors as heroes. In Jewish Memories, Valensi portrays Jews as the height of spiritual perfection, insisting that “reli-gious rituals stand out vividly in memory...everyone emphasizes the consistency of practice” (emphasis added)115. Not only is this contrary to most survi-vors – only Wiesel indicates a strong connection with Judaism prior to the Holocaust, whereas Steinberg “didn’t know a thing…about the Jewish religion”116 and Amery “came to realize [I was a Jew only] in 1935

110 Amery, 86. 111 Ibid., 92. 112 USHMM, 31. 113 Ibid., 23. 114 Amery, 59. 115 Valensi, 57. 116 Steinberg, 12.


after the proclamation of the Nuremberg laws”117—it also lays the groundwork for assertions of heroism and perfection. Similarly, in Voices from the Holocaust, Corgas describes survivors as those who “resist[ed] evil activity.”118 But as Steinberg explains, “I’ve often wondered if I didn’t choose my fate deliberately. Af-ter all, a prisoner’s vocation is to escape, even in the direst situations. I went meekly to the slaughter like a lousy sheep.”119 The description of Jews as sheep going “meekly to the slaughter” does not suggest the same sort of heroic anti-Nazism assumed by Corgas. As Lanzmann writes in his criticism of the mini-series Holocaust, “After years of ghetto confinement, terror, humiliation, and hunger, the people who lined up in rows of five…had neither the leisure nor composure to die nobly. To show what really happened would have been unendurable.”120 Thus, Lanzmann points to further proof of a romanticization of Holocaust survivors that, particularly when compared to the emphatic Nazi brutality of the same works, places the Holocaust within a mythologized good vs. evil framework to which humanity simply cannot relate.

One can perhaps best see the difference between later generational ascription of heroism to survivors and survivors’ own viewpoints in Maus. Here, like in survivor literature, Jews are not depicted as the heroes they are in other oral histories. Vladek de-scribes being sold out to the Gestapo by a Jew, recall-ing, “In the morning we gave [a Jew] a little food to him and left him go to his family…the Gestapo came that afternoon.”121 Despite this, however, one can see the reluctance to attach this behavior to the Jews, for accompanying this narrative is a picture of Nazis with guns screaming “JUDEN RAUS.” The empha-sis, then, is not on the Jew who sold out the others but rather on the Nazis who followed through on his tip. We see, then, a clear attempt to depict Jews as wholly innocent—in so far as Vladek’s narrative allows it. While this is admirable and, likely out of respect for those who were put in the most unimagi-nable conditions in which there existed “no moral law to contravene,”122 there is value in choosing to portray Jewish immorality; that is, it better prepares readers to understand that, under the proper condi-tions, anyone can become an animal. It was not, then, just a battle between pure evil (as represented by Nazis) and pure good (as represented by Jews and other inmates). Relegating it to such serves only to mythologize it and strip its relevancy to the modern age; this is precisely what oral historians have done.

Maus II questions the very phenomenon of label-ing survivors as moral upstarts. While Speigelman speaks to his therapist Pavel, a dialogue ensues that

117 Amery, 43. 118 Corgas, xiv. 119 Steinberg, 11. 120 Lanzmann, 30. 121 Maus, 113. 122 Levi, 97.

reflects the non-survivor trend of ascribing heroic status to survivors:

Pavel: Do you admire your father for surviving? Spiegelman: Well…Sure I know there was a lot of luck involved, but he was amazingly present-minded and resourceful. Pavel: Then you think it is admirable to survive. Does that mean it’s not admirable to not sur-vive?...It wasn’t the best people who survived, nor did the best ones die. It was random.”123

This sequence is important in two ways. First, it demonstrates how survivors, like Pavel, understand luck and randomness to be the key factor in surviv-al, rather than moral or physical strength. Vladek, too, understands this, for he interprets even his own physical condition as a product of luck, pointing out, “Most were not lucky to still be strong.”124 Second, it makes clear that Spiegelman, who represents the later generation, originally ascribes some sort of he-roic quality to survival that over-trivializes and ho-mogenizes the reality.

Therefore, by portraying the reality of the Jewish condition in the camps, survivors assert a terrify-ing naturalness to brutality and oppression – all it takes is placing someone in the proper conditions, and true, brutal, animal nature comes through. Con-trastingly, by portraying only Nazi brutality and reading all Jewish victims as walking heroically and dignifiedly to their death, oral historians place the Holocaust within a hyper-mythologized Evil vs. Good framework that serves only to further particu-larize it and remove it from human understanding. Pure evil and pure good are not present in the lives of most, and therefore, the Holocaust becomes some-thing so far outside imagination that future genera-tions can only treat it as an aberration. By attributing survival to luck – or even moral debasement—rather than heroism, survivors continue their trend of making the Holocaust relevant. Once again, then, oral historians further particularize the Holocaust by reading heroism where there was only survival.

Finally, we turn to chronology. We have seen that oral historians attempt to place the Holocaust with-in a logical framework that further mythologizes, but what about the chronological framework? In a similar way, oral historians emphasize the history of the Holocaust – that is, they attempt to place every-thing within a clearly discernible linear framework in which 1944 explains 1945, and so on. Survivors, however, attempt to weave together past and present in a way that links 1944 with 1993, etc. In such a way, survivors once again attempt to make the Holocaust relevant as a timeless moral/philosophical problem while oral historians relegate it to a historical evalu-ation of a long-since-passed age.

123 Maus II, 45. 124 Maus II, 84.


Survivors, both in their overt declarations and more subtle literary techniques, merge together past, present, and future. While Amery indicates that chronological order is not a concern125, other survi-vors are less explicit about their choices to remain outside a temporally linear framework. Instead, these authors juxtapose modern experiences with past ones, use present tense verbs to indicate past ex-periences, and frame their novel in ways most reflec-tive of a merger between past, present, and future.

Survivors juxtapose modern experiences with past ones to indicate both the relevancy of one’s Ho-locaust experiences on his present and to draw paral-lels between camp life and post-camp life. While dis-cussing travelling from Auschwitz to Buchenwald, Wiesel recalls:

“Dozens of starving men fought desperately over a few crumbs. The worker watched the spec-tacle with great interest. Years later, I witnessed a similar spectacle in Aden. Our ship’s passen-gers amused themselves by throwing coins to the ‘natives,’ who dove to retrieve them. An elegant Parisian Lady took great pleasure in this game. When I noticed two children desperately fight-ing the water, on trying to strangle the other, I implored the lady: ‘Please, don’t throw any more coins!’ ‘Why not?’ said she. ‘I like to give charity…’”126

Wiesel relates a similar story earlier on when he describes reuniting with a French woman whom he met in the camps127, and Steinberg, too, intermittent-ly reflects on his childhood within the context of his life at Auschwitz128. By refusing to adhere to a linear timeline and instead weaving tales of the past, pres-ent, and future together, survivors imply that the Ho-locaust can not be relegated to a mere moment in his-tory; events of the Holocaust – no matter how simple they are – can continue into today.

Steinberg and Amery further this technique by not only connecting their past experiences in the camps with their later experiences post-liberation but also connecting their Holocaust experiences with other moments in human history. As Steinberg admits, “I slapped the old Polish Jew. The Khmer Rouge mas-sacred their own brothers and sisters. French soldiers tortured people in Algeria. The Hutus hacked the Tutsis to death with machetes. And in this concert, I played my part.”129 By connecting his own decisions with the decisions of later genocidal regimes, Stein-berg purports a continuity of action and ideology that, though perhaps manifested differently in the Holocaust, persists to today.

125 Amery, xiii-xiv. 126 Wiesel, 100. 127 Ibid., 53. 128 Steinberg, 34. 129 Steinberg, 127.

Likewise, Amery associates his experiences with later events, forwarding this idea of ideological and actionable continuity:

“Between the time this book was written and to-day, more than thirteen years have passed. They were not good years. One need only follow the reports from Amnesty International to see that in horror this period matches the worst epochs of a history that is as real as it is inimical to reason. Sometimes it seems as though Hitler has gained a posthumous triumph. Invasions, aggressions, torture, destruction of man in his essence. A few indications will suffice: Czechoslovakia 1968, Chile, the forced evacuation of Pnom-Penh, the psychiatric wards of the USSR, the mur-der squads in Brazil and Argentina, the self-unmasking of the Third World states that call themselves ‘socialist,’ Ethiopia, Uganda.”130’’

Amery links these events with the same sort of motivations and inclinations as those that produced the Holocaust. Again, this is not to say that Amery does not view the Holocaust as unique; in fact, he calls the Holocaust “singular and irreducible in its total inner logic and its accursed rationality.”131 His point, then, is merely to show that the same factors that contributed to the rise of Nazism exist today, including genocidal tendencies. His book serves to explain how “We had the chance to observe how the word became flesh and how this incarnated word fi-nally led to heaps of cadavers. Once again people are playing with the fire that dug a grave in the air for so many. I sound the fire alarm…”132

Survivors also use the present tense to make the story more relevant to the reader. The use of direct quotes and dialogue is in and of itself a liter-ary technique to make the past present and is used in Wiesel’s, Levi’s, and Kertesz’s compositions. Fur-thermore, Wiesel and Levi use terms of the present to refer to instances of the past. For example, Wiesel explains that “By now, I became conscious of myself again”133 and likewise, Levi “do[es] not know what I will think tomorrow and later; today I feel no dis-tinct emotion.”134 The use of words like “now” and “today” to refer to moments of the past read the pres-ent into the past, thereby contemporizing rather than historicizing the events of the Holocaust.

Finally, survivors employ particular framing techniques that, once again, try to break down the historical barrier that bars current generations from relating to the Holocaust. Kertesz, for example, “reached home at roughly the same time of year as

130 Amery, vii. 131 Ibid., viii. 132 Ibid., x. 133 Wiesel, 87. 134 Levi, 128.


when I had left it.”135 The lack of any profound social or spatial difference between when he left and when he returned is a highly poignant commentary on the lack of discernible change in humanity, even after an event as paradigmatic as the Holocaust.

Contrastingly, oral historians, because their goal is to inform future generations of an historical event, focus their attention on locating the Holocaust with-in a clear chronological framework. In such a way, they serve to over-historicize the event by locating it explicitly in the past, with no attempt to connect it to modern day experiences. The USHMM encour-ages oral historians to “organize your questions chronologically”136 and “encourage [the interviewee] to anchor his or her experiences in a chronological and geographic framework.”137 Moreover, the overall framework of the questioning itself serves to hyper-historicize the event, as it is ordered into a pre-war, war, and post-war framework.

Maus II is perhaps most effective in showing the difference between survivors and oral historians in their approach to chronology. Despite searching for the “human dimension of an event unparalleled in human history,”138 oral historians often care little about the personal lives of the survivors and fa-vor, as has already been proven, the brutality of the Third Reich. While being interviewed, Vladek be-gins to digress into a personal story, at which point Spiegelman screams “ENOUGH! TELL ME ABOUT AUSCHWITZ!”139 This exclamation shows the ten-sion between survivors, who view the Holocaust within the larger framework of their own lives, and oral historians, who see the Holocaust as a moment unconnected to any other moment. This lack of con-nection is precisely how the Holocaust is described as an aberration: if there is no continuity, the Holocaust must have been a spontaneous accident of nature rather than an outgrowth of it.

Spiegelman, however, does negotiate the difficul-ties of time in some ways. He goes back and forth be-tween 1982, 1979, 1944, and 1987 as he tries to sort out where his life and Vladek’s life became so intrinsi-cally merged140. Accompanying his back-and-forth is an image of a pile of emaciated Jews below his desk, a skillful representation of how his father’s past has shaped his present. Likewise, Spiegelman’s conver-sation with his therapist Pavel continues the dialogue about how the past has influenced the present141, and in such a way, it is clear that Spiegelman comes to understand the inherent continuity between the past and the present.

135 Kertesz, 237. 136 USHMM, 22. 137 Ibid., 43. 138 Lewin, xx. 139 Maus II, 47.140 Ibid., 41. 141 Ibid., 44.

That said, Spiegelman still falls into the same trap that other oral historians do – that is, he is deter-mined to place the Holocaust within a clear historical framework. He becomes frustrated when it is appar-ent that this may be impossible:

Spiegelman: How long were you in quarantine teaching English? Vladek: Maybe 2 months…there I had it good. I – Spiegelman: You told me about that. How many months were you in the tin shop? Vladek: In this workshop—tin and shoe work combined—I was about 5 or 6 months. Spiegelman: So, black work lasted 3 months.Vladek: Yah…No! I remind myself…after black work I came again as a tinman with Yidl for 2 months. They – Spiegelman: But WAIT! That would be 12 months, you said you were there a total of 10! Vladek: So? Take less time to the black work in Auschwitz. We didn’t wear watches.142

Spiegelman becomes frustrated because, as an oral historian, he is attempting to learn about the his-torical past, of which chronological order is a major component.

Whereas Maus seems to move back and forth be-tween the two genres in terms of its treatment of a chronology, Lanzmann very clearly errs on the side of the survivors. He condemns historians for tracing Nazism, claiming that in so doing it implies that par-ticular conditions must be satisfied for such an event to occur:

“One must start with the naked violence and not, as is usually done, with the bonfires, the singing, and the blond heads of the Hitler Ju-gend; not even with the fanaticized German masses, the shouts of “Heil Hitler!” – the mil-lions of raised arms; nor from the series of anti-Jewish laws that, beginning in 1933, gradually made life for German Jews impossible…No, in creating a work of art, one deals with another logic, another way of telling the story…the Fi-nal Solution would not be the culmination of the story, it would be its point of departure.”143

He understands the importance of “the abolition of all distance between past and present,”144 an idea that manifests itself in his “non-sites” of memory in which he “mingle[d] past and present.”145 By visit-ing the present-day locations of past atrocities, Lan-

142 Ibid., 68. 143 Lanzmann, 34. 144 Chevre, 45. 145 De Beauvoir, Simone. “Shoah.” Claude Lanzmann’s Shoah. Ed. Stuart Liebman (New York: Oxford UP, 2007) p. 65.


zmann tries to prevent the mythologizing – or, as he sees it, to remove the legendary qualities146 – of the areas and make it real and relevant to today’s gen-eration. Lanzmann’s use of chronology is therefore in perfect keeping with his motivation; a motivation that, as previously shown, is inconsistent with that of survivors. Therefore, we see through Lanzmann’s work the influence that one’s motivation has on the ultimate construction and treatment of particular themes.

We have therefore shown that the motivations, depiction of Jews and Nazis, and chronological framework of oral histories serve to particularize and mythologize the Holocaust in a way that makes it ut-terly extraneous to post-Shoah generations. Reading survivors, one sees them not as witnesses to a his-torical anomaly but as a window to a buried part of human nature. Reading an oral history, however, one sees the Holocaust as an important, yes, but outdated accident of human nature; something that is so be-yond anything we can imagine so as to make it whol-ly immaterial to our daily lives. While it is important to understand the Holocaust as a unique event, sur-vivors do not read “unique” to mean “aberration.” There is no conception within survivor literature of the Holocaust as anything other than, in the words of Claude Lanzmann, “the monstrous, yes, but legiti-mate product of the history of the western world.”147 This is not to claim that all survivors view human na-ture as intrinsically bad, but rather that survivors, be-cause of their lived reality, understand that humans have at the very least a distinct potential to become bad based on one’s conditions – and it is the inter-est of the survivors to ensure that potential is seen as neither obsolete nor contrary to human nature. As Amery states when discussing how victims are often seen as the irreconcilable ones, “I know that what oppresses me is no neurosis, but rather precisely re-flected reality.”148

There are many reasons survivors may feel the need to make the Holocaust relevant to subsequent generations; choosing the correct one, then, is out-side the purview of this paper. Perhaps they want to create a shared experience – to, as Amery begs, turn the “antiman” once again into a fellow man.149 Maybe instead they want to ensure that that which was killed in the Holocaust is not forgotten. Perhaps they hope their words may stave off the next geno-cide by providing a history of the victim rather than the victor. Or perhaps they simply want to hold Ger-many and other genocidal regimes responsible for their sins out of some overarching moral compunc-tion. Regardless of the reasoning, one thing is clear: survivors understand their plight to be relevant to modernity, and they write in order to convince us of

146 Chevre, 43. 147 Laznmann, H2, 28. 148 Amery, 96. 149 Amery, 70.

the same. Once again, this is not to postulate that the Holocaust – or anything ideologically or practically similar – is imminent. It is only to say that survivors seem to connect the Holocaust with something natu-ral – something that exists in some form or another, enough to be the moral obligation that compels them to write. The purpose of the interweaving of past and present, the focus on relatable personalities and indi-vidualized enemies – all of these serve as the vehicles through which they achieve their goal – writing to prevent a similar atrocity by bearing witness to the most cataclysmic event in human history.


CErEBral rna ExPrEssion variation BEtWEEn inBrEd MousE strains rEsistant and susCEPtiBlE to CErEBral

isChEMia:tEsting novEl huMan CandidatEs

Sean Li, Elisa Ferrante, Brian Annex, Charles Farber, Bradford Worrall

Background: Inbred mice provide a powerful tool to explore genetic factors in differential pheno-types. our review of the literature demonstrated clear strain differences in susceptibility to ce-rebral ischemia. Recent Genome Wide Association Studies (GWAS) in humans have identified 3 loci, which are specific sites of particular genes on its chromosome, for ischemic stroke with a number of associated candidates: NINJ2 and WNK1 on chr12p13.3, PItX2 on chr4q25, and CD-KN2A and CDKN2B on chr9p21.3. Also, we tested candidates from experiments in a hindlimb ischemia mouse model and identified a quantitative trait locus (QTL) associated with resistance to ischemia. We tested these candidates in inbred mice with distinct stroke susceptibilities.Methods and Results: Global gene expression profiles of the whole brain were generated. Ex-pression quantitative trait loci (eQTL) were identified for our candidate genes. These loci regulate gene transcription and expression on a genome-wide scale. Cis-acting eQTL were identified for Ninj2 and Wnk1 with log 10 of the odds (LoD) scores of 101.2 and 10.8, respec-tively. The LOD score compares the likelihood that these eQTL are significantly different in the mice strains to the likelihood of observing the same data purely by chance. thus with a LoD score of 101.2, the odds are 10101.2 to 1 that this result did not occur by chance. Expres-sion levels across genotypes support an additive mode of gene action with both genes more highly expressed in the resistant than the susceptible strain. Cis-acting eQTL was also identi-fied for Inpp5f with a LoD score of 2.2 and 1110007A13Rik was found to have a fold change of 0.46. Fold change is how much a quantity changes going from an initial to a final value.Conclusions: Our data demonstrate differential expression of two candidate genes identified in human GWAs that are under genetic control. the results for Ninj2 support the hypothetical mechanism that Ninj2 affects how the brain tolerates ischemic insults. Also, the two genes iden-

Sean Li is a fourth year pre-med student majoring in Mu-sic and Economics. He has been working for Dr. Worrall’s stroke genetics lab in collaboration with Dr. Annex’s an-giogenesis lab for the past 2 years on identifying genes re-sponsible for resistance to cerebral ischemia. He is current-ly looking at novel gene targets that may be responsible for protective effect of chromosome 7 of C57BL/6 mice and is parsing the pathways by which these genes act. After grad-uation, Sean will continue working on his research during his gap year between college and medical school.

tified from the hindlimb ischemia candidates may also lead to significant discoveries related to ischemic tolerance. Comparison of response to a middle cerebral artery occlusion model, analysis of candidate gene expression before and after ischemic injury, and parsing the role of these genes and the pathways by which they act may allow for the identification of novel therapeutic targets for cerebrovascular disease.


introduCtion

Despite being a high profile and key public health problem, treatments to limit the devastating ef-

fects of stroke are few. The last few decades have seen substantial efforts to alter stroke risk through public and personal health initiatives targeting well known risk factors. Therapeutic advances, such as those for hypertension, have led to only modest reductions in age-adjusted risk of stroke without changes in life-time risk or stroke severity1. The case-fatality and in-cidence rates of first-ever strokes have remained con-stant for decades2. Not only are the immediate effects of stroke still devastating, up to one-third of all stroke survivors exhibit dementia within three months af-ter stroke3. The extent of the contribution of these nearly 11 million subclinical “events” to age related cognitive decline and dementia has yet to be fully characterized4, but there is little doubt that the bur-den of cerebrovascular disease surpasses that which is ascribed to clinical stroke. Part of the reason why there have been such few advances in preventing and treating stroke is due to the genetic variability among patients in response to stroke. In order to better un-derstand this variability, pre-clinical genetic research may be used. This type of research can identify novel mechanisms underlying ischemic injury, determi-nants of stroke outcome, and new therapeutic targets, although its potential has yet to be fully realized.

To conduct pre-clinical genetic research, we used inbred mice as our model. This model has been very well-established for cerebral ischemia experiments and has yielded data to show high variability among different mice strains in response to the induced in-jury5-17. With this model, we set out to test existing candidate genes from two different sources: Genome Wide Association Studies (GWAS) in humans18-20 and experiments in a hindlimb ischemia mouse model which identified a quantitative trait locus (QTL) as-sociated with resistance to ischemia21.

In the GWAS, three loci were identified for isch-emic stroke with a number of associated candi-dates: NINJ2 and WNK1 on chr12p13.3, PITX2 on chr4q25, and CDKN2A and CDKN2B on chr9p21.3.

We hypothesized that some of these five etiologic candidates will be differentially expressed in mouse models of cerebral ischemia. As for the other source of candidates, it yielded 37 genes under the peak on mouse Chr. 7 (Table 1), and we hypothesized that some of these 37 response modifier candidates will be differentially expressed in mouse models of cere-bral ischemia.

methodsMice

All of the inbred strains of mice were obtained from the Jackson Laboratory (Bar Harbor, ME) either directly or bred locally breeding pairs of each strain. Mice were age-matched and sex-matched for all ex-periments. Experiments were performed under pro-tocols approved by the Animal Care and Use Com-mittee of the University of Virginia.

Experimental DesignTo test our candidate genes, two microarray-

based resources were created. Microarrays consist of thousands of microscopic DNA spots attached to a solid surface, allowing researchers to simultane-ously measure the expression levels of large numbers of genes. Both microarray-based resources sought to exploit the strain differences in response to cerebral ischemia.

Resource #1F2 mice (N=300) derived from C3H (resistant) and

C57BL/6 (susceptible) inbred mouse strains were densely genotyped. Global gene expression profiles of whole brain were generated using Agilent DNA microarrays. The R/qtl software was used to identify expression quantitative trait loci (eQTL) for the can-didate genes. A threshold LOD score of > 2 was set to identify significant genes.

Resource #2In this microarray resource, four strains of in-

bred mice were used: DBA/2 and 129/Sv (resistant); C57BL/6 and BALB/c (susceptible). Gene expres-

table 1. Candidate genes from Dokun, et al21.


sion profiles of whole brain (n=4 per strain) were generated using an Affymetrix Mouse430 array (Af-fymetrix, Santa Clara, CA). Then, significant normal-ized expression fold-change was set at a threshold of >2; <0.5. Afterwards, a linear model analysis was run (Linear Models for Microarray Data) to find sig-nificant genes after grouping susceptible strains vs. resistant strains. Finally, a Benjamini and Hochberg correction was used to correct for multiple testing, and we used a corrected p-value cutoff of p<0.01.

resultsResource #1

After testing the candidate genes from GWAS, two genes were found to be significantly differen-tially expressed: Ninj2 and Wnk1. As for the hindlimb ischemia candidates, only one gene was found to

be differentially expressed: Inpp5f. Cis-acting eQTL were identified for Ninj2 and Wnk1 with LOD scores of 101.2 and 10.8, respectively, and expression levels across genotypes support an additive mode of gene action as both genes were more highly expressed in the resistant than the susceptible strain (Figure 1). Cis-acting eQTL were also identified for Inpp5f with a LOD score of 2.2 (Figure 2).

Resource #2In this microarray database, none of the GWAS

candidates were found to be significant but one can-didate was from the hindlimb ischemia candidates. 1110007A13Rik had a 0.46 fold change.

Figure 2. Results for hindlimb ischemia candidates for Resource #1

Figure 1. Results for CWAs candidates for Resource #1. The bottom two graphs show the level of expression of the gene in question bassed on the genotypes of the mice.


disCussionOur data demonstrate differential expression of

two candidate genes identified in human GWAS that are under genetic control. The results for Ninj2 sup-port the hypothetical mechanism proposed in the original paper, where they theorized that the level of expression of Ninj2 affects how the brain tolerates ischemic insults18. Based on our results, our data sug-gest that higher expression of Ninj2 is associated with higher resistance to cerebral ischemia. Ninj2 is part of the ninjurin, or “nerve-injury-induced protein” fam-ily, and is inducible through nerve injury and pro-motes nerve regeneration in male Sprague-Dawley rats18.

Wnk1 mutations have been linked to the sever-ity of essential hypertension, which is a significant risk factor for stroke18. It is significant that both of these genes are from chromosome 12 while the genes from chromosome 4 and 9 were not differentially ex-pressed. This might be because the chromosome 4 and 9 genes are related to mechanism, such as atrial fibrillation and atherosclerosis respectively, while the chromosome 12 genes are related to injury response.

As for the results from our hindlimb ischemia can-didates, Inpp5f (LOD score of 2.2) and 1110007A13Rik (fold change of 0.46), little is known about either one; although both play a role in imprinting, demethyl-ation, and chromatin modification, and may also be co-regulated.

These experiments both support further investi-gation of the biology and genetic regulation of these candidates and serve as a proof of concept for this approach more generally. Exploiting multiple strains with differential susceptibility to cerebral ischemia is a promising avenue of research. Comparison of re-sponse to a middle cerebral artery occlusion model, analysis of candidate gene expression before and after ischemic injury, and parsing the role of these genes and the pathways by which they act may allow for the identification of novel therapeutic targets for cerebrovascular disease.

aCknoWledgementsWe would like to thank Drs. Charlene Edwards,

Yongde Bao, and Michael Black for their help on ana-lyzing and collecting microarray data.

sourCe of fundingThis work was supported by the University of

Virginia’s Clinical and Translational Science Award.

disClosuresNone.

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M, Kase CS, Kannel WB, Wolf PA. Trends in in-cidence, lifetime risk, severity, and 30-day mor-tality of stroke over the past 50 years. JAMA. 2006;296:2939-2946.

2. Kleindorfer D, Broderick J, Khoury J, Flaherty M, Woo D, Alwell K, et al. The unchanging incidence and case-fatality of stroke in the 1990s: A popula-tion-based study. Stroke. 2006;37:2473-2478.

3. Barba R, Martinez-Espinosa S, Rodriguez-Garcia E, Pondal M, Vivancos J, Del Ser T. Poststroke de-mentia : Clinical features and risk factors. Stroke. 2000;31:1494-1501.

4. Hachinski V. The 2005 Thomas Willis Lecture: Stroke and vascular cognitive impairment: A transdisciplinary, translational and transactional approach. Stroke. 2007;38:1396.

5. Barone FC, Knudsen DJ, Nelson AH, Feuerstein GZ, Willette RN. Mouse strain differences in sus-ceptibility to cerebral ischemia are related to cere-bral vascular anatomy. J Cereb Blood Flow Metab. 1993;13:683-692.

6. Connolly ES, Jr., Winfree CJ, Stern DM, Solomon RA, Pinsky DJ. Procedural and strain-related variables significantly affect outcome in a murine model of focal cerebral ischemia. Neurosurgery. 1996;38:523-531; discussion 532

7. Fujii M, Hara H, Meng W, Vonsattel JP, Huang Z, Moskowitz MA. Strain-related differences in susceptibility to transient forebrain ischemia in sv-129 and c57black/6 mice. Stroke. 1997;28:1805-1810; discussion 1811.

8. Wellons JC, 3rd, Sheng H, Laskowitz DT, Bur-khard Mackensen G, Pearlstein RD, Warner DS. A comparison of strain-related susceptibility in two murine recovery models of global cerebral isch-emia. Brain Res. 2000;868:14-21.

9. Majid A, He YY, Gidday JM, Kaplan SS, Gonza-les ER, Park TS, Fenstermacher JD, Wei L, Choi DW, Hsu CY. Differences in vulnerability to per-manent focal cerebral ischemia among 3 common mouse strains. Stroke. 2000;31:2707-2714.

10. Lambertsen KL, Gregersen R, Finsen B. Microgli-al-macrophage synthesis of tumor necrosis factor after focal cerebral ischemia in mice is strain de-pendent. J Cereb Blood Flow Metab. 2002;22:785-797.

11. Yonekura I, Kawahara N, Nakatomi H, Furuya K, Kirino T. A model of global cerebral ischemia in c57 bl/6 mice. J Cereb Blood Flow Metab. 2004;24:151-158.

12. Yang G, Kitagawa K, Matsushita K, Mabuchi T, Yagita Y, Yanagihara T, Matsumoto M. C57bl/6 strain is most susceptible to cerebral ischemia following bilateral common carotid occlusion among seven mouse strains: Selective neuronal death in the murine transient forebrain ischemia. Brain Res. 1997;752:209-218.


13. Sheldon RA, Sedik C, Ferriero DM. Strain-related brain injury in neonatal mice subjected to hypox-ia-ischemia. Brain Res. 1998;810:114-122.

14. Kitagawa K, Matsumoto M, Yang G, Mabuchi T, Yagita Y, Hori M and Yanagihara T. Cerebral Isch-emia After Bilateral Carotid Artery Occlusion and Intraluminal Suture Occlusion in Mice: Evalu-ation of the Patency of the Posterior Communi-cating Artery. Journal of Cerebral Blood Flow & Metabolism (1998) 18, 570–579.

15. Plaschke K, Sommer C, Schroeck H, Matejic D, Kiessling M, Martin E, Weigand MA and Bardenheuer HJ. A mouse model of cerebral oli-gemia: relation to brain histopathology, cerebral blood flow, and energy state. Experimental Brain Research (2005) Volume 162, Number 3, 324-331.

16. Kelly S, McCulloch J, Horsburgh K. Minimal ischaemic neuronal damage and HSP70 expres-sion in MF1 strain mice following bilateral com-mon carotid artery occlusion. Brain Res. 2001 Sep 28;914(1-2):185-95.

17. Schulte-Herbrüggen O, Klehmet J, Quarcoo D, Meisel C, Meisel A. Mouse strains differ in their susceptibility to poststroke infections. Neuroim-munomodulation. 2006;13(1):13-8. Epub 2006 Apr 3.

18. Ikram, et al. Genomewide association studies of stroke. N Engl J Med. 2009 Apr 23;360(17):1718-28. Epub 2009 Apr 15.

19. Gretarsdottir, et al. Risk variants for atrial fibrilla-tion on chromosome 4q25 associate with ischemic stroke. Ann Neurol. 2008 Oct;64(4):402-9.

20. Gschwendtner, et al. Sequence variants on chro-mosome 9p21.3 confer risk for atherosclerotic stroke. Ann Neurol. 2009 May;65(5):531-9.

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a no-nonsEnsE guidE to gEtting involvEd in rEsEarCh

find your passionWhat boggles your mind and stimulates you to question and explore? What could you spend hours ponder-ing and prodding the complexities of? Finding out what you are passionate about and what area of research you would enjoy pursuing is the first step to a successful research experience. Here are some tips on how to find your true calling:

• Attend Poster sessions and Conferences: This is a great way to sample a diverse set of research proj-ects being conducted in your potential field of interest. Plus, you will have the opportunity to meet one-on-one with researchers and discuss common areas of interest to further explore.

• Attend Department seminars: Most departments organize periodic seminars or a lecture series, open to all students, where you can hear and learn more about the research that faculty and graduate stu-dents are currently pursuing.

• Communicate your Interests to Professors: Did you find a certain lecture particularly interesting? Go ask your professor more about the topic and share your enthusiasm with him/her. Professors will often be able to guide you to the right people who can help further develop your passion and provide research opportunities in that area.

• Network and Inquire: Whether it is faculty advisors, fellow student researchers, graduate students, or members of the Center for Undergraduate Excellence, do not be afraid to seek out answers to your questions and get advice from those with experience.

Choose an adVisorWith so many scholars to choose from, it may seem like a daunting task to sift through them all and find the ones of greatest interest to you. While this is a necessary task for finding the right fit, here are some things to remember during this stage:

• Visit the Department Homepage: Every department website has a link to faculty research, where you can find brief summaries of the current research and questions being asked.

• Email Faculty Members of Interest: Make a list of at least 3 professors you would be interested in working with and send them an email introducing yourself and requesting to setup a time to meet with them in person. Often, professors are very busy and may not respond to your email, but don’t let that deter you. Be polite and persistent, follow up on your emails, and even try calling the profes-sor or showing up at his/her office. Additionally, remember that you need not have prior research experience in order to get involved – everyone starts somewhere.

• shadow Researchers: If possible, shadow another student researcher. Ask to watch experiments in progress (if applicable) and attend group meetings so that you can get a better feel for the research environment. For those in the sciences, shadowing in a lab may be anywhere from a few hours to multiple lab visits, depending on your level of interest. Not all experiences of this nature are equally rewarding, so sample a few labs until you find what works.

do your homeWorkNow it’s time to meet with the faculty advisor and perhaps even begin discussing a potential project. How do you prepare for this meeting? Here are some tips that are sure to help:

• Read the Professor’s Published Papers: Reading through at least a few of the professor’s recent pub-lications will help familiarize you with some of the technical vocabulary and concepts you may hear about during the meeting.

• Prepare Questions: Having a set of questions in mind will help keep the conversation running smoothly. You may inquire about the nature of equipment to be used, prior knowledge and skills needed, recommended courses, flexibility in work hours, or expected time commitment.

• Aim high: Express your eagerness to learn. Inquire about your exact role and level of involvement. Could you get co-authorship on a publication resulting from your contribution? Either way, Profes-sors will be delighted by your motivations and professionalism. Lastly, it is never too late to get in-volved in undergraduate research, but the rewards are often larger for those who begin early!


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The OculusVolume 10, Issue 1

The CenTer for UndergradUaTe exCellenCeThe Center for Undergraduate Excellence’s mission is to assist students in find-ing an inter-connected course of study that challenges preconceptions, builds in-tellectual curiosity, hones analytical thinking, and prepares students for lives of leadership and service. To this end, the CUE advises students regarding national scholarships and fellowship competitions, undergraduate research opportunities, and the creation of interdisciplinary majors. Students are encouraged to visit the CUE, please visit its website at www.virginia.edu/cue or its office at 305 Harrison Institute.

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