I recently read Nietzsche’s The Genealogy of Morality with a group of colleagues. To the extent to which I understood the book (and despite the book’s brevity I’m feeling somewhat sympathetic to those snakes who have to sit around whilst they digest a large mammal), my comprehension was greatly assisted by Brian Leiter’s excellent Nietzsche on Morality . Reading the reviews and commentary on Mel Gibson’s Passion, I was immediately reminded of a passage from the second essay, where Nietzsche is writing about the genesis of guilt from the sense of indebtedness (at first to ancestors) and remarks on the further excruciating twist that Christianity brings: on the pretext of having their debts forgiven, believers are put in a postition of psychological indebtedness from which they can never recover (He sent his only son, and we killed Him):
…. we confront the paradoxical and horrifying expedient with which a martyred humanity found temporary relief, that stroke of genius of Christianity—God’s sacrifice of himself for the guilt of human beings, God paying himself back with himself, God as the only one who can redeem man from what for human beings has become impossible to redeem—the creditor sacrifices himself for the debtor, out of love (can people believe that?), out of love for his debtor! (sec. 21)
I haven’t seen Gibson’s film yet (since it doesn’t open in the UK for another month) but it is clear from the reviews that it is precisely this aspect of the Christian story that Gibson accentuates through his relentless focus on the torture and suffering of Jesus. (And see the email of the day on Andrew Sullivan for evidence that some believers are taking the movie in exactly this way.)
Contrast this with, say, Pasolini’s treatment of the story in his The Gospel According to St. Matthew , where another aspect of the Christian message is emphasised: that we all belong to a common humanity, that each person has moral worth and should be recognised as such, and that compassion is an appropriate attitude to the suffering of our fellow humans (a vision powerfully expressed, also, in Joan Osborne’s song “One of Us”). Nietzsche doesn’t like this aspect of Christianity either, of course, but for me at least, it is the most attractive feature of the religion. Not just attractive, of course, but morally and politically important and influential: the basic equality of humans posited by both Locke and Kant is strongly rooted in this Christian tradition (which poses an unresolved problem, I think, for those of us who want to hang onto that moral idea whilst rejecting religion - c.f Jeremy Waldron’s recent God, Locke and Equality ).
One of the reasons I can’t bring myself to share the antipathy to religion that is expressed by someone like our esteemed regular commenter Ophelia Benson , is that, at its best, religion succeeds in a symbolic articulation of universal moral concern that secular morality finds it hard to match up to (motivationally, I mean). Secular morality is a thin gruel compared to the notion that, as children of God, we are to think of ourselves as brothers and sisters. It sounds as if Gibson’s film is a reminder not of religion at its best, but at its very worst: cruel and sadistic and aiming to provoke a mixture of guilt, worthlessness and rage in believers. I’m keeping an open mind about whether the film is specifically anti-semitic, but it sounds very much as if the film draws on and inflames the very reactive attitudes that have inspired much religious violence and persecution (not to speak of personal unhappiness) in the past.
This discussion reminds me of an article I read in Prospect a few years ago in which the author argued that although Christianity is almost certainly wrong, Christians are nicer than ordinary people.
I have some sympathy with the position but I do wonder whether however desirable the outcome, acting on the basis of superstitious beliefs, will always lead to ultimately less desirable outcomes in the grand scheme of things.
Chris,
I appreciated your willingness to acknowledge the moral power of religious faith, specifically (in this case) the Christian doctrine that we are all equal members in the family of God. But that doctrine only works, only makes sense, in the context of redemption, in the light of God’s saving work. Those who have lost both familiarity with and (frankly) interest in the Christian story might wonder why we can’t just emphasize the “good parts” (the loving, “liberal” message of commonality) and dump the “bad parts” (the sense of sin and “indebtedness” which, you say, leads to “a mixture of guilt, worthlessness and rage”). But Nietzsche was wiser than most critics of Christianity, in that he saw that the two were complementary, and detested them both. Look around. We are manifestly not equal, not the same. There are sinners and saints, strangers and intimates, loving people and selfish people, people advantaged in every possible way and people disadvantaged in every possible way, givers and abusers, fools and geniuses. In other words, as the ancient prophets emphasized again and again, we are sundered by sin; we are not one. The ONLY way for common concern to truly take root in the human heart is for something (or Someone) to enter into history, break up or break off all the ways in which human beings turn against (or are turned against) one another, and make a new arrangement—a new testament, if you will. (Sounds like Rousseau’s lawgiver and the manifesttation of the general will, I know—but Rousseau’s project was in many ways all about trying to recreate the Christian world without all that messy believing.)
Too many people accept too easily Nietzsche’s rather harsh psychology of morality. Indebtedness doesn’t have to—doesn’t even usually, I think—produce resentment; only Freudian absolutists really believe that all kids must resent their parents. Submission and dependency are arguably also what allow you to view others through non-self-interested eyes; you recognize others as others, and not a source of advantage for oneself. Which means, paradoxically (Rousseau again!), more autonomy. As the man said, the truth shall make you free.
Sorry for the sermon. I promise it won’t happen again.
russell arben fox wrote:
“Indebtedness doesn’t have to—doesn’t even usually, I think—produce resentment; only Freudian absolutists really believe that all kids must resent their parents. “
I think this may, in a way, help explain what Chris is talking about — and it’s a matter of emphasizing different aspects of what God means.
Of course everyone doesn’t resent their parents.
But consider if one of the parent’s prime ways of communicating with the kid is along the lines of: “I really gave up everything for you. Let me tell you the horrors I went through to conceive you, to carry you to term, the pain of labor, the economic sacrifices I made to raise you, the loss of my own time and interests that I gave up for you.”
it’s far more likely the child of that parent will resent the parent more than one who communicates principally “I love you and enjoy your company.”
To massively simplify, Gibson’s Christ is like the former parent.
K
Ha, funny you should mention it. I was thinking as I read the first half of the post, ‘Yes, I know, right, that’s what I’m planning to get to next - I need to acknowledge the other side of the coin.’ Then read on and was startled/amused to find you were thinking the same thing.
It’s on the schedule.
russell arben fox wrote:
“Indebtedness doesn’t have to—doesn’t even usually, I think—produce resentment; only Freudian absolutists really believe that all kids must resent their parents. “
I think this may, in a way, help explain what Chris is talking about — and it’s a matter of emphasizing different aspects of what God means.
Of course everyone doesn’t resent their parents.
But consider if one of the parent’s prime ways of communicating with the kid is along the lines of: “I really gave up everything for you. Let me tell you the horrors I went through to conceive you, to carry you to term, the pain of labor, the economic sacrifices I made to raise you, the loss of my own time and interests that I gave up for you.”
it’s far more likely the child of that parent will resent the parent more than one who communicates principally “I love you and enjoy your company.”
To massively simplify, Gibson’s Christ is like the former parent.
K
Gibson’s film is not a reminder of religion at its worst. In fact, it’s permeated with an emphasis on compassion for the suffering of others. One of the most striking —and much unremarked-on — things about the film is how much help Jesus receives from others (his family and friends accompany him the entire way, Simon helps carry the cross, Veronica wipes his face, etc.), and how much their assistance seems to matter. And there is no expression of rage or worthlessness or desire for revenge on the part of Jesus’ followers in the film (well, excepting Peter, but then he betrays his friend three times).
I also think that, great as Nietzsche is, relying him as an expert on Christianity is perhaps not the best idea. More practically, at the very least, Chris, you should refrain from writing about a movie — and comparing it to another movie, no less — before having seen it.
Chris:
“believers are put in a position of psychological indebtedness from which they can never recover.”
As a matter of doctrine, not so. Eternal beatitude surely constitutes (among other things) a ‘recovery’ from all possible evils and moral debts, if anything does.
I realise that you want to focus on the secularised ‘here and now’ aspects of the Christian message, but you seem to be jumping the gun here. After all, the death of Christ understood as the self-sacrifice of God has no more of a place in an account of the secular aspects of that message than the promise of eternal life that refutes the allegation that that sacrifice generated an unexpiable guilt. One can’t have it both ways.
As for the secular component of the message, “that we all belong to a common humanity, that each person has moral worth and should be recognised as such, and that compassion is an appropriate attitude to the suffering of our fellow humans,” as your admirable summary has it, the irony is that, according to the mainstream of the Hebrew-Christian tradition (prominently Aquinas and Kant, among Christian philosophers), it is precisely this ‘purely moral’ component that is accessible to human reason alone — ie that does not depend, for our understanding of it, upon divine revelation. Or so Alan Donagan persuasively argues (The Theory of Morality, ch 1).
Russell, no need to apologise. I very much appreciate you taking the time and trouble to explain.
You and Jimmy plainly disagree about whether a notion of basic equality can be sundered from its religious framework. I’m afraid I haven’t read the Donagan chapter, Jimmy, though you’ve told me to before (I’ll get to it).
Other secular attempts to defend that premise for moral argument (such as Rawls and Vlastos) I’ve found rather unsatisfactory.
Another thought re Jimmy: the accessibility of morality to human reason is one thing, getting people to act morally is another. [Can of worms alert here …!]
—-
Steve Carr, of course you’re right that I should reserve judgement on the Gibson film until I’ve seen it. The volume of commentary about something I can’t see yet is, however, somewhat frustrating.
Keef,
Having not seen The Passion, I’ve no intention of defending Gibson’s movie. I don’t know what its real (or unintended) message is. But there’s a lot loaded into what it means to “communicate” a message. How does that parent say “I love you and enjoy your company”? Through words and deeds. Which words and deeds? Ones made without sacrifice, without cost? That communicates convenience, not love. To the extent that certain versions of the Christian story emphasize a kind of finger-pointing, blood-on-one’s-own-hands fault-finding (“look what I made God have to go through for me!”)—a recognition which is in actuality quite self-centered—so much the worse for such versions. (Martyrdom can also be a species of pride.) But the message itself involves no such finger-pointing; it makes one cognizant of the costs involved in fully loving, fully reconciling oneself to another human being, without making those costs into a resentful weapon to beat oneself or others with.
If Steve’s right (and I fully concur with his second point re: Nietzsche, by the way), then it appears Gibson shows a fair number of people in the movie who don’t take the suffering of Jesus as a rebuke or a burden; instead, they just suffer and serve along with Him. It is that kind of humility, I think, which is necessary for the more “rational” moral or ethical message of commonality to take hold. I sincerely question the degree one could exist without the other.
Keef,
Having not seen The Passion, I’ve no intention of defending Gibson’s movie. I don’t know what its real (or unintended) message is. But there’s a lot loaded into what it means to “communicate” a message. How does that parent say “I love you and enjoy your company”? Through words and deeds. Which words and deeds? Ones made without sacrifice, without cost? That communicates convenience, not love. To the extent that certain versions of the Christian story emphasize a kind of finger-pointing, blood-on-one’s-own-hands fault-finding (“look what I made God have to go through for me!”)—a recognition which is in actuality quite self-centered—so much the worse for such versions. (Martyrdom can also be a species of pride.) But the message itself involves no such finger-pointing; it makes one cognizant of the costs involved in fully loving, fully reconciling oneself to another human being, without making those costs into a resentful weapon to beat oneself or others with.
If Steve’s right (and I fully concur with his second point re: Nietzsche, by the way), then it appears Gibson shows a fair number of people in the movie who don’t take the suffering of Jesus as a rebuke or a burden; instead, they just suffer and serve along with Him. It is that kind of humility, I think, which is necessary for the more “rational” moral or ethical message of commonality to take hold. I sincerely question the degree one could exist without the other.
Jimmy, that is the standard line, but like Chris B (and Jeremy Waldron) I’ve never found it terribly satisfying or convincing. That’s one place our reason can take us, but it’s certainly not the only one—it depends a great deal on which premises we’re starting from and paying attention to, which again brings us back to the religion question.
Great post and discussion, and the second time in as many weeks I’ve sat down at the computer with a lecture to write, procrastinated by logging on to CT, and found a post about the exact topic I need to write a lecture about! (Last week it was The German Ideology) So thanks for helping me keep my focus and giving me ideas.
“Great post and discussion, and the second time in as many weeks I’ve sat down at the computer with a lecture to write, procrastinated by logging on to CT, and found a post about the exact topic I need to write a lecture about!”
Yeah, same here - not a lecture to write, but a bit of writing to write. All the more helpful in disagreeing with me in particular, and on a point I was just rolling up my sleeves to concede anyway.
I agree with Chris that it’s the motivation that’s the difference. I think secular morality is in fact vastly better at thinking about moral issues, but I can’t pretend it’s as good at motivating it.
But on the other hand, of course, religion is also good at motivating horrible morality. One would need an awful lot of data and means of analyzing it to figure out how it all balances out. Does religion motivate more compassion and generosity than cruelty and oppression? Or vice versa. I sure don’t know.
jdsm begins with the big empirical question. Is it true that Christians (defined in a non question-begging way) are more likely to love their neighbours and so on than unbelievers or believers in religions that don’t make this a central tenet? My impression [based mainly on aggregate comparisons over time] is that they are not and that the decay of religious belief hasn’t had much effect on people’s general morality, as opposed to particular taboos (sex with the wrong person, Sabbath-breaking etc).
As a result, I have no sympathy at all with Nietzsche. It seems to me that he was addressing a non-problem (the death of God) and coming up with wrong and dangerous answers.
On the other hand, it’s clear to me that a certain style of rational calculation, encouraged, for example, by the study of economics, is dangerous to morality in the way that people worried about in the 19th century. In my limited experience, professed Christians are just as vulnerable to the corrosive effects of this kind of rationalism as anyone else. But some styles of Christianity would probably guard against it.
John, I find your remarks far too dismissive. Of course professed Christians do all kinds of bad things. Most US politicians claim to be believers but that doesn’t seem to make much difference to their behaviour. At least this makes British politicians better on one dimension - fewer of them are hypocrites.
The really interesting questions - whether or not N’s answers were “wrong and dangerous”, as you put it - concern whether certain key features of our moral framework (basic equality, evil, guilt, moral responsibility, blame) make sense once they are detached from the religious belief-systems and culture that gave rise to them. And are those features of our moral framework actually good or are they harmful?
Pressing us to think about those questions and pointing to the fact that others (such as the Greeks) have lived with moral frameworks that lack those features seems to me to be an important thing to have done.
As for the corrosive effects of rational calculation - agree with you there.
The really interesting questions - whether or not N’s answers were “wrong and dangerous”, as you put it - concern whether certain key features of our moral framework (basic equality, evil, guilt, moral responsibility, blame) make sense once they are detached from the religious belief-systems and culture that gave rise to them. And are those features of our moral framework actually good or are they harmful?It seems to me that, with the crucial exception of basic equality, these features of our moral framework are pretty much hardwired, and certainly that Judaeo-Christian societies have no monopoly on guilt, blame and moral responsibility.
So, we’re left with basic equality, which is (to me) at the core of Nietzche’s concerns. Obviously, there’s a logical basis for tying this to Christianity in the sense that everyone has an immortal soul more important than any earthly rank or status, and this is backed up by much in the life and words of Jesus (as recorded). Equally obviously, this didn’t cause serious problems for Christian monarchies and aristocracies and their associated churches any time between the conversion of Constantine and the Enlightenment.
I’d argue that the rise of egalitarianism led to an increased stress on the egalitarian component of Christianity, notably in things like the anti-slavery movement, and that Nietzsche was reacting against this from an essentially pro-slavery viewpoint. But I think he got cause and effect the wrong way around in suggesting that the idea of equality was derived from Christianity and that the decline of faith posed fundamental difficulties for egalitarian morality.
As to the issue of a wholely secular basis of morality and ethics, such ethics are usually conceived on the basis of the notion of personal autonomy. Now autonomy, in various guises, is a notion that permeates modern Western culture and I think it is important to recognize that the ideal of autonomy has its origins, at least in the historical sense, in Greek metaphysics. Metaphysics begins in the recognition of the sheer transcendence of being, beyond anything one can say or do about it, that is, the independence of the world and its availability and amenability to a rational implicature that structures our understanding of it. But for there to be such an understanding, there must be one who understands and thus, reflexively, as it were, such a rational knower takes on the independence of the independent world that is known, rising above enmeshment in particularities and separating himself from the world by standing over against it. Such a rational knower is a superior soul, in contrast to the demotic mythically-enmeshed man, who remains tied to the world and sacrifices himself to it. But in such separation, there is trauma, as well,- (together with those Platonic impassibilities)- and “autonomy”, literally self-law, amounts to an effort to deal with and compensate for this trauma. (Much of what is extreme in Plato amounts to animadversions against this trauma.) Transferred onto the domain of ethics, the emphasis falls on human action and action is defined as voluntary or “free” precisely insofar as it masters and controls causality, which, of course, requires self-mastery as well. The goal of ethics becomes the preservation of this freedom defined as autonomy at all costs.
Now it is an unexpungible and irremissible fact that each person is existentially separate from each and every other person. Equally, as a language-bearing being, each human being is “free” and exists fundamentally in relation to at least some other such persons. And from this follows that all human action is directly or indirectly interaction. I take it that the matter of ethics concerns not just the permissibility of our actions, but our relations with other similarly separate persons as others. From this perspective, it is questionable whether the notion of autonomy is not an ideologization of the existential fact of separateness, one that perhaps blinds us to the relation to the other that is at stake in the ethical matter.
Now ethical norms, being counterfactuals, by definition do not “exist”. But, insofar as they are relevant, I think that they are anchored at the level of recognitions between persons- or failures of recognition. And this level, whether or not it is deemed “real”, is not amenable to objectifying modes and methods of thinking. And in this I think one can see something of the failure of projects of rational, systematic, meta-ethically grounded ethical theories. Kantian ethics is not just formalistic, but legalistic, as well. It is as if it takes the stand-point of a third party judging a matter between two disputing parties. And it is based on a postulation of an abstract, purely intellectual respect for the other, for the “abstract” humanity in each human being. (“Treat no man as a mere means to an end, but also as an end in himself.”) I think it is fair to say that such an abstract respect may lead to quite other conclusions or prescriptions than a concrete encounter and recognition of the other in his vulnerability. (We all want hold others morally accountable and “take them to task”. I think this is part of the reason Nietzsche shifted the ground to the “will-to-power”.) The attempt to extend the reign of autonomy to the entire ultimate “kingdom of ends” may in fact preclude actual recognition and the kind of accountability and responsibility that it avails. (I realize there is much more to Kant than this, especially his crucial recognition of the “de-ontic” nature of morality, but I hope I have not bowlderized him too badly.) Which would return us to the question of whether we do, in fact, draw much of our moral/ethical conceptions, in all their bewildering inconsistency, from inherited traditions, especially religious ones.
I am reminded again what a devilishly sharp thinker Nietzsche was, (though I find people who endlessly quote him unoriginal, since he obviously wrote to be quoted and read at length he tends to become tiresomely vitriolic). As for him being especially dangerous, though I think he would have taken that as a compliment, I think Nietzsche needs to be read in relation to Kant, as polemically blurting out all those half-truths that are repressed in the overweening, four-square conception of reason constructed by Kant. (The “will-to-power” is the synthetic unity of apperception, the “uebermensch”, who overcomes “man”, is the transcendental ego, and “eternal recurrance” is the categorical imperative gone beserk.) The “death of God” does not just refer to the decline of religion, but also to the concommitant loss of the logical forms of unity that the (transcendental) ego imposes on the world. In this, he poses the deeper challenge.
As for Christianity itself and what sort of “redemption” it offers, I thought that the core notion of Christian religion was the imitation of Christ, with the understanding that this was also an impossible injunction, since the fellow was said to be divine, after all. In this, the figure of Jesus Christ could be compared with the Buddha, though with a conception of the world that was somewhat different in its complexion and implicature. In particular, the believer/adherent attains “redemption” from the corruption, guilt and suffering of the world only by passing through it rather than passing out of it.
I haven’t seen Gibson’s film yet (since it doesn’t open in the UK for another month)
It’s widely available on the internet, so it is more a case of morality that is preventing you from seeing it.
Secular morality is a thin gruel compared to the notion that, as children of God, we are to think of ourselves as brothers and sisters.
So my morality is a thin gruel and yours is exactly what?
I always compare claims of moral superiority to those claims of genetic superiority.
Makes me feel morally superior.
(you may apply formal logic to this argument)
So my morality is a thin gruel and yours is exactly what?
Since I’m not a religious believer, mine too,
The flaw in thin gruel’s rebuttal is the conception
of morality as nothing more than an individual’s code
of conduct (“my morality vs. your morality”). We’re
trying to talk about foundations of civil society and
human nature here.
Really enjoying these religion threads,
in particular how quickly the conversation has gotten
away from stereotyped caricatures of religious people to addressing fundamental concerns.
Still missing the breadth of empirical experiences from genuine religious believers
notwithstanding the welcome and needed contributions of russell arben fox.
A trivial point, but: whatever you think of the Gibson film, don’t download it from bittorrent and watch it at home. Not because you’ll be immoral, but because this is a film that should be seen on the big screen.
The flaw in thin gruel’s rebuttal is the conception of morality as nothing more than an individual’s code of conduct (“my morality vs. your morality”). We’re trying to talk about foundations of civil society and human nature here.
It was intended as secular vs. religious morality.
Many religious people consider those different. Many non religious people wouldn’t know the difference.
And it is therefore also obvious that religion is no foundation of civil society. But then you’ll probably have to be strictly non-religious to accept that.
Just as a religious worldview implies that we are ALL children of God (or at least subject to the same religious environment),
a non religious worldview implies that there is no religion as a meaningfull concept. It’s not that God doesn’t exist, but that it has no meaning. For ALL of us.
But then there is no book or organization that determines the proper non religious view. So I don’t expect anyone to share my views.
I would rather believe that we are all brothers and sisters because of our genetic similarities.
I would rather do good to others for the betterment of the overall conscious existence. If the overall conscious existence is better off, I am better off too. This may sound a bit self-centered; however, religious morality is also self-centered (fear of sin and going to hell). (Not that I see anything wrong with self-centered morality.) The difference is that we have yet to see anyone who has sinned and gone to hell.
Interesting view, and nicely put. I agree on that distinction between the good (compassion) and bad (blackmail of guilt) of Christianity.
… but you shouldn’t have spoiled a reference to Pasolini with the mention of that awful, awful song!!
À Gauche
Jeremy Alder
Amaravati
Anggarrgoon
Audhumlan Conspiracy
H.E. Baber
Philip Blosser
Paul Broderick
Matt Brown
Diana Buccafurni
Brandon Butler
Keith Burgess-Jackson
Certain Doubts
David Chalmers
Noam Chomsky
The Conservative Philosopher
Desert Landscapes
Denis Dutton
David Efird
Karl Elliott
David Estlund
Experimental Philosophy
Fake Barn County
Kai von Fintel
Russell Arben Fox
Garden of Forking Paths
Roger Gathman
Michael Green
Scott Hagaman
Helen Habermann
David Hildebrand
John Holbo
Christopher Grau
Jonathan Ichikawa
Tom Irish
Michelle Jenkins
Adam Kotsko
Barry Lam
Language Hat
Language Log
Christian Lee
Brian Leiter
Stephen Lenhart
Clayton Littlejohn
Roderick T. Long
Joshua Macy
Mad Grad
Jonathan Martin
Matthew McGrattan
Marc Moffett
Geoffrey Nunberg
Orange Philosophy
Philosophy Carnival
Philosophy, et cetera
Philosophy of Art
Douglas Portmore
Philosophy from the 617 (moribund)
Jeremy Pierce
Punishment Theory
Geoff Pynn
Timothy Quigley (moribund?)
Conor Roddy
Sappho's Breathing
Anders Schoubye
Wolfgang Schwartz
Scribo
Michael Sevel
Tom Stoneham (moribund)
Adam Swenson
Peter Suber
Eddie Thomas
Joe Ulatowski
Bruce Umbaugh
What is the name ...
Matt Weiner
Will Wilkinson
Jessica Wilson
Young Hegelian
Richard Zach
Psychology
Donyell Coleman
Deborah Frisch
Milt Rosenberg
Tom Stafford
Law
Ann Althouse
Stephen Bainbridge
Jack Balkin
Douglass A. Berman
Francesca Bignami
BlunkettWatch
Jack Bogdanski
Paul L. Caron
Conglomerate
Jeff Cooper
Disability Law
Displacement of Concepts
Wayne Eastman
Eric Fink
Victor Fleischer (on hiatus)
Peter Friedman
Michael Froomkin
Bernard Hibbitts
Walter Hutchens
InstaPundit
Andis Kaulins
Lawmeme
Edward Lee
Karl-Friedrich Lenz
Larry Lessig
Mirror of Justice
Eric Muller
Nathan Oman
Opinio Juris
John Palfrey
Ken Parish
Punishment Theory
Larry Ribstein
The Right Coast
D. Gordon Smith
Lawrence Solum
Peter Tillers
Transatlantic Assembly
Lawrence Velvel
David Wagner
Kim Weatherall
Yale Constitution Society
Tun Yin
History
Blogenspiel
Timothy Burke
Rebunk
Naomi Chana
Chapati Mystery
Cliopatria
Juan Cole
Cranky Professor
Greg Daly
James Davila
Sherman Dorn
Michael Drout
Frog in a Well
Frogs and Ravens
Early Modern Notes
Evan Garcia
George Mason History bloggers
Ghost in the Machine
Rebecca Goetz
Invisible Adjunct (inactive)
Jason Kuznicki
Konrad Mitchell Lawson
Danny Loss
Liberty and Power
Danny Loss
Ether MacAllum Stewart
Pam Mack
Heather Mathews
James Meadway
Medieval Studies
H.D. Miller
Caleb McDaniel
Marc Mulholland
Received Ideas
Renaissance Weblog
Nathaniel Robinson
Jacob Remes (moribund?)
Christopher Sheil
Red Ted
Time Travelling Is Easy
Brian Ulrich
Shana Worthen
Computers/media/communication
Lauren Andreacchi (moribund)
Eric Behrens
Joseph Bosco
Danah Boyd
David Brake
Collin Brooke
Maximilian Dornseif (moribund)
Jeff Erickson
Ed Felten
Lance Fortnow
Louise Ferguson
Anne Galloway
Jason Gallo
Josh Greenberg
Alex Halavais
Sariel Har-Peled
Tracy Kennedy
Tim Lambert
Liz Lawley
Michael O'Foghlu
Jose Luis Orihuela (moribund)
Alex Pang
Sebastian Paquet
Fernando Pereira
Pink Bunny of Battle
Ranting Professors
Jay Rosen
Ken Rufo
Douglas Rushkoff
Vika Safrin
Rob Schaap (Blogorrhoea)
Frank Schaap
Robert A. Stewart
Suresh Venkatasubramanian
Ray Trygstad
Jill Walker
Phil Windley
Siva Vaidahyanathan
Anthropology
Kerim Friedman
Alex Golub
Martijn de Koning
Nicholas Packwood
Geography
Stentor Danielson
Benjamin Heumann
Scott Whitlock
Education
Edward Bilodeau
Jenny D.
Richard Kahn
Progressive Teachers
Kelvin Thompson (defunct?)
Mark Byron
Business administration
Michael Watkins (moribund)
Literature, language, culture
Mike Arnzen
Brandon Barr
Michael Berube
The Blogora
Colin Brayton
John Bruce
Miriam Burstein
Chris Cagle
Jean Chu
Hans Coppens
Tyler Curtain
Cultural Revolution
Terry Dean
Joseph Duemer
Flaschenpost
Kathleen Fitzpatrick
Jonathan Goodwin
Rachael Groner
Alison Hale
Household Opera
Dennis Jerz
Jason Jones
Miriam Jones
Matthew Kirschenbaum
Steven Krause
Lilliputian Lilith
Catherine Liu
John Lovas
Gerald Lucas
Making Contact
Barry Mauer
Erin O'Connor
Print Culture
Clancy Ratcliff
Matthias Rip
A.G. Rud
Amardeep Singh
Steve Shaviro
Thanks ... Zombie
Vera Tobin
Chuck Tryon
University Diaries
Classics
Michael Hendry
David Meadows
Religion
AKM Adam
Ryan Overbey
Telford Work (moribund)
Library Science
Norma Bruce
Music
Kyle Gann
ionarts
Tim Rutherford-Johnson
Greg Sandow
Scott Spiegelberg
Biology/Medicine
Pradeep Atluri
Bloviator
Anthony Cox
Susan Ferrari (moribund)
Amy Greenwood
La Di Da
John M. Lynch
Charles Murtaugh (moribund)
Paul Z. Myers
Respectful of Otters
Josh Rosenau
Universal Acid
Amity Wilczek (moribund)
Theodore Wong (moribund)
Physics/Applied Physics
Trish Amuntrud
Sean Carroll
Jacques Distler
Stephen Hsu
Irascible Professor
Andrew Jaffe
Michael Nielsen
Chad Orzel
String Coffee Table
Math/Statistics
Dead Parrots
Andrew Gelman
Christopher Genovese
Moment, Linger on
Jason Rosenhouse
Vlorbik
Peter Woit
Complex Systems
Petter Holme
Luis Rocha
Cosma Shalizi
Bill Tozier
Chemistry
"Keneth Miles"
Engineering
Zack Amjal
Chris Hall
University Administration
Frank Admissions (moribund?)
Architecture/Urban development
City Comforts (urban planning)
Unfolio
Panchromatica
Earth Sciences
Our Take
Who Knows?
Bitch Ph.D.
Just Tenured
Playing School
Professor Goose
This Academic Life
Other sources of information
Arts and Letters Daily
Boston Review
Imprints
Political Theory Daily Review
Science and Technology Daily Review