Brian Barry is dead

I’m really sorry to hear this. I was just talking yesterday with a colleague about whether there were political scientists or political theorists who could actually write clear, lovely prose – Barry was one of the very few names that we could come up with. If he didn’t mince his words, he surely knew how to use them.

I’ve always been very impressed by everything of Barry’s I’ve read in my occasional forays into political theory. I can imagine him being as you’ve described.

A very sad day. I think Brian was best experience either on the page or either one-to-one or in very small groups (where he was kind and interesting) – in extended social situations (like conferences!) he could be a total disaster. Some time in the early 1990s I invited him to sit as a respondent on a panel at workshop I’d organized on basic income. I think that Brian was on third. Brian dropped off to sleep during the main paper and then snored loudly, but when his time came he snapped into alertness and gave some very cogent responses to remarks that he couldn’t possibly have heard.

I’m also saddened to hear this. I have a slightly shamefaced taste for academic viciousness, and Barry was the master of that (I think of his brilliantly nasty review of Anarchy, State, and Utopia); but the one time I met him, he was gentle, courteous, and more interested than he had any need to be in what I had to say.

someone can contribute to philosophy other than by writing, no?

if it’s like other disciplines, one can contribute a lot by mentoring, teaching, encouraging, listening, critiquing, etc.

so someone’s death can be a loss to a discipline, even if that death did not deprive it of further writings?

i’ve never heard of this guy, but it sounds to me like his death is a sad loss for philosophy.

I’m not a political philosopher, so I didn’t know Prof. Barry, but I do have a story to tell. Once I was at a colloquium at which, halfway through the speaker’s droning narration of his paper, someone – and I was told later that it was Barry, but again I don’t know for sure – interrupted, saying (approximately) “I’m sorry, but I don’t think we need to hear any more. This is just rubbish! It clearly can’t work at all. What’s the point in continuing?” The speaker didn’t bat an eye (although some others of us did wake up at that point), and there was a brief back-and-forth before the narration continued. I can’t speak to the substance, but I can say that that was the worst delivery of any paper I’d ever suffered through.

See “Chris Brooke”:http://virtualstoa.net/2009/03/11/brian-barry-rip/ for discussion of some of Barry’s prefaces and acknowledgements.

I’m reminded, by the way, that both Ingrid and I were present at a conference in Brussels (Feb 2003 at a guess) in celebration of an award to Philippe Van Parijs. Contributions from the floor were conducted by passing a microphone around, but once Brian got hold of it, it proved impossible to prise from his grasp as he started on several long perorations that lasted longer than the papers from the rostrum (certainly singly, and possible added together).

Sometimes it just has to be said, no? — when the intersection of incompetent presentation (like robotic reading), preposterous analysis, and absurd conclusion makes a talk unbearable. “This is just rubbish! It clearly can’t work at all. What’s the point in continuing?” Amen!

Last week the Flemish philosopher Patricia de Martelaere died at the age of 51 (whom none of you will know, except if you’re Dutchspeaking, since she only wrote in Dutch). That was very sad news. And now again sad news on Barry’s death. I should confess that I had mixed views on his work – I find some of it brilliant and some of it perhaps a little too polemical and sweeping, but there can not be a doubt that it is a great loss to our profession, and of course a tragic loss to the people closely related to him.

At the ECPR Workshops in Paris Albert Weale was commentator on some kind of Nozickian paper and noted that the author seemed to only want to give the rights that might be applicable to Robison Crusoe alone on his island – ‘More like the rights you’d give to Robinson Crusoe’s dog’ growled Brian from the back.

Anni told me later that Brian really liked me on first meeting because after the seminar I asked him if he wanted to go for a drink. Friendship cemented.

We argued of course, but the one time I swore at him was going over Striding Edge in the Lake District; it had got much rougher since he’d last done it and was now quite a scramble. I’d taken the rucksacks over, and come back to help Anne my wife, who was too short to make some of the footholds and then went back to see if Brian needed any help. I saw Brian resolutely climbing towards a sheer edge away from the scramble down the correct side. ‘This way Brian, go left, go left, go f*ing left you f*ing idiot listen to me’. He did, he usually listened, eventually, even if he did not always agree, but this time the advice seemed sage to him, ‘go left, go f*ing left.’

I learned from Brian that is easier to write more than less. You can always edit down, and if four out of every five lines is going to be cut, then you don’t have to worry first draft if they each make sense. It is only the final version that has to make sense. And his always did. Many people have made the point that he wrote beautifully, that was not mere style, but redrafting ten or twenty times on occasion. The real mark of how good his writing really is comes when you try to critique it. There are some writers that seem really profound on first reading, largely because you don’t understand half of what they are saying. Second and third read proves that is because what they are saying doesn’t make sense. It is always clear what Brian is arguing, but is only on second and third read, when you’re checking him against the criticisms you are trying to make, that you realize that it is actually important to his point that he has used a semi-colon and not a comma; whilst the subordinate clause is not just an opportunity to make a joke but a serious response to the point you were intending to make.

I think it is only those who read Brian’s work as carefully as he wrote it, that truly appreciate just how good he was.

Brian’s character and contribution has been described so well by others that I don’t feel I have anything to add. But on reading through the comments I remembered that I reviewed his two volumes of essays in 1992 – before I had met him – and wondered what I had said about them. Here is one paragraph: “Although a number of themes recur throughout the volumes, no single argument or thesis particularly stands out as central or unifying. Many of the pieces are largely or partly critical studies of the work of others, and Barry clearly takes a lot of pleasure in setting things straight, deflating egos, and putting people right. Charles Fried’s Right and Wrong, we are told, is a “rather crass book” (2.40n), and the same adjective is applied to Ronald Dworkin’s suggestion that moral beliefs can be treated as “external preferences” (2.33). John Rawls is, at one point, astonishingly described as “cavalier” (2.69), Steven Lukes is “obscurantist” (1.304), while Sen’s “Paradox of the Paretian Liberal” is no paradox at all (2.78-109). In Barry’s world-view (to paraphrase Ronnie Scott) everyone has feet of clay and some have heads of clay too. One unspoken message of the collection seems to be that political theory can be much easier than most people make it, provided that one keeps things clear, puts down one’s ideological axe, and resists the temptation to seek novelty or paradox for its own sake.”

This is dreadfully sad news. Around 10 years ago now Brian had a bad car accident and was laid up for some time. This turned out to be as lucky for me as it was awful for him, since I was organising a series of workshops on Justice and the Environment, and I very much wanted Brian to come to all three of them. No hope, I thought. But he graciously rang back to say that he was just emerging from his enforced idleness and ‘would love’ to come to the seminars. The result was a rare treat for all those who were able to benefit from his presence. The paper he wrote for us on that occasion is still one of the very best reflections on the relationship between justice and sustainability.

Very sad news. I first met Brian when I was working on my dissertation. He came to lecture in Oxford and I told him I was working on justice between generations. “Ah” he replied with a huge smile, “you know it’s MY baby”. This sentence and smile were the essence of Brian: warmth, humour, and being ready to defend one’s positions. Since then we met many times, and he came to Jerusalem for two great weeks as a guest of the Hebrew University. I feel fortunate to have known him, a good hearted and warm person, so clever and sharp, and yet modest. He had a sharp tongue and he did not walk on tiptoes when he was criticising a paper etc., but he was very honest; I remember I was in a workshop and after hearing a student’s paper Brian said it was one of the best papers he had heard that year. I told the student: With Brian you know he did not just say this; he meant it.

I had no occasion to have any personal interaction with Barry but, thinking it over, I do want to draw attention to an essay of his that I think is unfortunately neglected, “The Quest for Consistency: A Sceptical View”, in the volume _Free Movement_ that the co-edited in the early 90’s with Robert Goodin. It’s a short and wonderful smashing of some of the more simple-minded (but fairly popular) arguments for open borders. I’m not sure every bit of it is right, and I don’t know what Barry’s considered positive view on the matter is. But, it’s quite devastating to several popular arguments for open borders and deserves to be read and cited more than it is.

Brian hated the term the ‘Enlightenment Project’, but he was as much an eighteenth century rationalist as he was a nineteenth century radical. He had a great belief in our capacity to solve problems by putting our minds to them – and I think this did sometimes lead to the irascibility which several writers have noted. Once he felt that he had worked things through, and had patiently explained his reasoning to you with all the clarity that his writing and conversation always displayed, if you still didn’t agree with him he could become rather testy. Basically, there must be something wrong with you, either you are not smart enough to see the point, or, if that is implausible, then perhaps you have gone over to the dark side! Of course there were some issues where reasonable disagreement was possible, but Brian always made sure he got to say what ‘reasonable’ meant in this context. This led to some fierce polemics, but he was also capable of friendship with people whose views he regarded as incorrigibly wrong-headed – I can testify to this from first hand experience, as someone who he regarded as a PoMo fellow-traveller, a follower of Michael Walzer and, even worse, an occasional Blairite. Over a bottle of wine and a good meal in his kitchen – cooked by Brian and Anni of course – none of that mattered, at least not very much….

I don’t have any direct evidence at hand, but I’ve said for a while now that the work of Barry’s that I’ve read reads a lot like a very well-informed academic blog–not unlike an exceptionally polished CT.

I knew Brian the scholar, the teacher, and the man. It is a sad time. I echo the sentiments of those who mentioned his kindness and generosity.
No political philosopher can match Brian Barry for the sheer entertainment value of just about anything he wrote. Brian’s writing reveals both his love of language and the clarity of his thinking. The argument is always logically organized and plain to see. And he made insightful contributions to so many areas of political theory – from social justice to democracy, from liberalism to environmental justice, from power to socialism, from rational choice to equality — always with state-of-the-art knowledge of a range of related fields and, of course, his own simple good sense.
The books are valuable literally from start to finish. He writes justly famous prefaces. (As is evident from the preface to Why Social Justice Matters, he was well aware of his reputation on this front.) Upon taking a new book of Brian’s in hand, one inevitably checks the back of the book, specifically the names in the index, to discover the identities of his latest victims.
I was lucky to have experienced the criticism of ‘encouraging and generous Brian’ rather than ‘Brian the uncompromising and dismissive critic’. Before I knew the full extent of Brian’s reputation as a devastating reviewer, I gave a paper on a PSA conference panel for which Brian was the respondent. I was too young and naïve to be frightened; luckily (for me), Brian said he thought I’d got it more or less right … and then he went on to tear to pieces the arguments of another, less fortunate, panel member.
My doctoral thesis was supervised by two of the finest political philosophers, Brian Barry and John Charvet. Upon receiving a chapter draft from me, they would choose different arguments to praise and criticize. I learned a lot during those years. One lesson, I think, was to have the courage to listen carefully to objections but not to be intimidated by criticism.
I consider myself privileged to have known Brian Barry. I agree with Stuart White that Brian’s work is timely at this particular historical moment. I would add that it deserves to become increasingly important in the coming years.
Cheers, Brian. I will miss you.

PS. I did not mean to imply that Brian took over Ethics in the 80s. He had taken it over in the 70s I believe, but our relationship — first through the Journal then more generally — flourished through the 80s.

This is nothing to do with politiccal philisophy. I knew Brian through Anni who is a friend of mine since the 1970’s. I will remember being scared on first meeting this great intellect but over the years discovered how kind and welcoming he was. I visited them three times in New York and it was a joy. I will always remember that he was somone who was a great trencherman – he loved his food and was fantastic at making roasts. Always good cheese on offer too. Last saw him at a lunch at my house in Brighton in January. I hope he enjoyed it.

I can’t easily describe how much I have been moved by your recollections of Brian. The last three years have been difficult, and it’s been lovely to read your stories and to realise that the person you are remembering is the real Brian, my Brian,rather than the shadow of himself that we have been living with for the last threeyears. Brian loved his graduate students – several generations of them, who fortunately for us became our family. He was great at encouraging young people, and got a real kick out of you all
doing so well- you know who you are!

When you’re in London, come by 14 Russell Chambers

Much love
Anni

Although Brian and I were contemporaries and knew each other for many years, we had moved academically and philosophically in different directions. By the time he had come to LSE, I had already moved from LSE to UCL to take on the task of editing The Collected Works of Jeremy Bentham. Our paths crossed again at the memorial meeting for Herbert Hart, where we spoke at length about Hart’s involvement in the Bentham Committee and the new edition. Brian expressed an interest in assisting us, and I warmly accepted his offer. He served for many years on the Bentham Committee and played a crucial role in helping us to secure grants and raise funds to keep the edition going. I last saw him in June 2008 at the annual meeting of the Bentham Committee, where, while frail, he maintained his interest and involvement.

During this period I also came to appreciate his fine mind and his capacity for critical argument. He and Anni attended a number of conferences sponsored by the International Society for Utilitarian Studies, and he served on the editorial board of Utilitas. In the midst of all of this academic activity, I was not only aware of the breadth of his reading and his sharp, philosophical mind, but also of his warmth, kindness, and sense of humanity. I shall miss him very much.