In Conversation: An OUP Podcast

Daniel DiSalvo is the author ofGovernment against Itself: Public Union Power and Its Consequences (Oxford University Press, 2015). DiSalvo is associate professor of political science at the City College of New York, CUNY, and a senior fellow at the Manhattan Institute. It is rare that an academic book attracts attention and stokes real controversy, but look to DiSalvo as the first of 2015 to set the social media afire. DiSalvo challenges many conventional notions about unions, primarily the work of public sector unions, during a period of strained state and local finance. He claims that many of the arguments for the importance of private sector unions – those representing manufacturing and other private employees – are largely inapplicable to private sector unions – those representing teachers, police and fire personnel, and other government workers. The special position of public sector unions, at once distinct from government, but also deeply entrenched in government, sets up peculiar negotiating dynamics. DiSalvo claims that public sector unions are given “two bites at the apple” on their interests, permitted to collectively bargain contracts, but also lobby those at the bargaining table in the larger political process.

In understanding a tradition what is the relationship between the ‘center’ and the ‘periphery’? How do the lived religious lives of practitioners contest or affirm authority? In The Seer of Bayside: Veronica Lueken and the Struggle to Define Catholicism (Oxford University Press, 2014), Joseph Laycock, assistant professor of religious studies at Texas State University, explores the implicit power of definitional boundaries through a study of a community that is simultaneously insider and outsider. The book is an introduction to Veronica Lueken, who had apparitions of the Virgin Mary, Jesus, and other Catholic saints, and a history of the movement that developed around her, the Baysiders. Laycock framed this unfolding history within the movement’s evolving relationship with Church authorities. The narrative presents Lueken’s early visions, the community of followers that rose up around here, and the continued conflict they received from the Church, their neighbors, and each other. The case is useful for understanding the creation of meaning through the contestation of tradition and questions of what gets to count as orthodox. In our conversation we discussed the Second Vatican Council, UFOs, technologies of power, the Pope, imagined communities, ethnography, New Religious Movements, abnormal Polaroid pictures, conspiracy theories, and the construction of sacred space.

Religious ritual has been a staple of anthropological study. In his latest monograph, Ritual Textuality: Pattern and Motion in Performance (Oxford University Press 2014), cultural anthropologist Matt Tomlinson takes up the topic anew through a set of four case studies drawn from his fieldwork in Fiji. Each one illustrates a component of what Tomlinson calls ritual entextualization, the process by which discourse becomes texts that are detachable from their original contexts and thus replicable. Through this framework, Tomlinson explores how rituals are patterned, repeated events that are also in “motion,” flexible and dynamic. Along the way, readers are introduced to linguistic performances in Pentecostal revivals, semiotic similarities between kava drinking and Christian communion, spectacles of a “happy death” in nineteenth-century missions, and political wrangling following the recent military coup d’état.

Daniel Prosterman‘s new book Defining Democracy:Electoral Reform and the Struggle for Power in New York City (Oxford University Press, 2013) investigates a neglected topic in U.S. history: the occasional efforts by reformers over the years to bring proportional representation to America. No democracy in the world today is less representative by the standard of “one person, one vote.” (In 2000, three states with more than a quarter of the population, had just six Senators, for example. The seventeen least populous states, with seven percent of the population, had thirty-four.) This is actually an improvement over the past, when various mal-apportionment schemes essentially disenfranchised huge numbers of voters in virtually every state. Prosterman’s book does not look at the national scene, but takes us instead through New York City’s brief experiment with a quirky form “STV” (single transferable vote), the standard in most democracies. Like so many imported European reforms in the early 1900’s, the American version had a fraught experience. But as Prosterman painstakingly details it also invigorated the electoral system in New York, opening the field to an unusually diverse set of candidates for the time: women, blacks, even Communists. To the horror of even formerly sympathetic reformers, like Al Smith. In the end, an equally strange pack of bedfellows conspired to destroy the practice, which locals had voted for overwhelmingly. Yet, for all its flaws and historical particularities, the experiment stands as a useful reminder that democracy is now just about who votes, but how that vote is counted.

When a contemporary reader opens up their Bible they may be unaware of the long historical process that created the pages within. One of the key components in this history is the Septuagint, the Greek translation of Hebrew scriptures between the third century BCE and the second century CE. Timothy Michael Law, Lecturer in Divinity in the University of St. Andrews, offers a thorough chronicle of the creation and afterlife of the Septuagint in When God Spoke Greek: The Septuagint and the Making of the Christian Bible (Oxford University Press, 2013). Through this narrative Law also interrogates broader concerns, such as the ways we examine canons and scriptures during this period, translation in the ancient world, authorial intentions, and audience receptions. The book covers the role the Septuagint in the Bible’s lengthy history up until the present and demonstrates how our contemporary engagement with it can illuminate numerous shadowy paths in Religious Studies. In our conversation we discussed Hellenistic Judaism, apocrypha, Jerome, the Hebrew Bible, Origen’s Hexapla, the Dead Sea Scrolls, Biblical citation, Augustine, the Protestant reformation, Eusebius, and academic writing for public audiences.

In theory, Christian missionaries plan only on working in a country until an indigenous leadership can take over management of the church. Theory is one thing, but practice is quite another, as Dr. Ernest P. Young shows in his fascinating exploration of this issue in his Ecclesiastical Colony: China’s Catholic Church and the French Religious Protectorate (Oxford University Press, 2013). In this well-researched work, Dr. Young shows why many Catholics missionaries, including those who were not French, were willing to look to French protection in China, and how that impeded the growth of an indigenous, acculturated church. Dr. Young also tells the fascinating story of how a few missionaries, sympathetic to Chinese aspirations and wishing to build a truly Chinese Catholic Church, worked with the Vatican in an attempt to undermine the French Protectorate. As readers of this fine book will find, the merely partial success of this project has echoes that still reverberate in China today.

Modern democracy is build around a collection of moral and political commitments.  Among the most familiar and central of these concern voting.  It is commonly held that legitimate government requires a system of universal suffrage. Yet, democrats tend to hold that certain exclusions are permissible.  For example, it is commonly thought that children and the mentally impaired may justifiably be disenfranchised.   We also tend to think that the disenfranchisement of felons and non-citizen residents is permissible.  Indeed, these exclusion are often thought to be consistent with universal suffrage. In Democracy and Disenfranchisement: The Morality of Electoral Exclusions (Oxford University Press, 2014), Claudio Lopez-Guerra challenges our common understanding of voting.  Ultimately, he argues in favor of an elitist system of enfranchisement by lottery.  He also criticizes arguments that universal suffrage is consistent with the exclusion of children, the mentally impaired, felons, and resident non-citizens.  The result is a fascinating and provocative exploration of, and challenge to, the fundamental idea that voting is a basic right.

Vahid Brown and Don Rassler‘s Fountainhead of Jihad: The Haqqani Nexus, 1973-2012 (Oxford University Press, 2013) is a meticulously researched and remarkably detailed exposition of the Haqqani network’s growth and ongoing importance among Pakistani militant organizations. Beginning with an expansive history of the Haqqani family’s background, and subsequent emergence as a critical lynchpin in the Pakistani – and by extension US – anti-Soviet efforts in Afghanistan, the book goes on to cover the Haqqanis’ present operations, including its involvement in attacks on NATO, Indian, and government forces in Afghanistan. By shedding light on a group that, while sometimes mentioned in news media, is largely unknown to non-specialists, Fountainhead of Jihad is a major scholarly contribution to the subject of South Asian extremism. The book is in large part based on fascinating primary source material, much of it gleaned from seized documents contained in the US military’s HARMONY database, and media produced by the Haqqanis and other militant actors. Those interested in Pakistani intelligence’s relationship to extremism, the past and future of militancy in South Asia, and  terrorist modus operandi more generally, will all benefit from a close reading of Fountainhead of Jihad. After reading the book, I also believe that some familiarity with the Haqqani network is a prerequisite to understand the emergence and continued existence of Al-Qaeda and its affiliates. While insurgency rages on in Syria and Iraq, and attention on South Asian terrorism has waned somewhat, I have little doubt that the Haqqanis will continue to be a key actor in the “Great Game” between Afghanistan, Pakistan and India long after the demise of ISIL, Jabhat al-Nusrah, and other more recent additions to the Sunni militant scene. Among both scholars and practitioners, the counter-terrorism community would be well advised to have a thorough understanding of the Haqqanis, and I suspect there is no better source to acquire this understanding from than Fountainhead of Jihad.

Americans have a paradoxical relationship with cities, Steven Conn argues in his new book,Americans Against the City: Anti-Urbanism in the Twentieth Century (Oxford University Press, 2014). Nearly three-quarters of the population lives near an urban center, the result of a centuries-old, global trend that reflects not just industrialization but the role cities have played as engines of economic, social, cultural, intellectual, and political life. Yet two-thirds of this “metropolitan” demographic–half the nation–chooses to reside in the suburbs, and over the years a remarkably consistent and low number of people have said they would prefer to live in a city. This may just reflect circumstance, the outcome of policies that, historians know, were not smartly, and often undemocratically, imposed. But as Morton White recounted decades ago, the intellectuals of the past have been just as anti-urban as politicians. Despite the outsized importance of the seaboard port-cities to the War for Independence, the founders left a Constitution that divided power geographically, not numerically, ensuring that cities would be forever underrepresented. Jefferson expressed the feeling of many early republicans that we could only maintain our virtue and freedom by remaining a nation of small yeoman, even while doubling the country’s size and guaranteeing its commercial development. Henry David Thoreau, writing in a more democratic age, told readers to go to “the woods” to find individuality–from a cabin one mile outside Concord. This anti-urban tradition was briefly interrupted in the late 1800’s, when, as Conn writes, for the first time the problems of the city became the problems of the nation. Many Progressives advocated European-style planning to meet the challenges for which cities were infrastructurally unprepared and often governmentally powerless to resolve. But as Conn writes, many thinkers also continued to see the city itself as the problem, and saw the solution as decentralization: dispersing population and industry. During the interwar period, the car, and electricity, stepped in to meet their needs, and when the Great Depression hit, FDR and the New Dealers fell back on this generation of thought, coming forward with a battery of programs that would unravel the city–and the famous coalition he built. Indeed, while the anti-urban tradition has often been the vehicle for an illiberal free-market political agenda, Conn shows that it has covered the ideological spectrum. The postwar Right in the Sunbelt helped speed the decline of the industrial belt in the North by advertising its bourgeoning megalopolises as the antithesis of the urban: free of high-rises, zoning, civil rights protestors, unions, and government in general, even while it relied on billions in federal tax dollars, saw high rates in crime, and increasingly had to reverse itself and create basic municipal services. But the anti-urban sentiment cut across the aisle, from the enthusiasm of postwar liberals for “urban renewal” and highways to the hippies’ revival of the back-to-the-land fantasy and the flowering of 1990’s communitarianism. The nation’s anti-urban policies remain, as does the bipartisan impulse, which makes this book’s subject as relevant as ever. Perhaps, as Conn says, in this era of hip gentrification, when the children of the suburbs are returning to cities, the “new urbanists” will break internationally odd pattern. But they will have to grapple with the multidimensional legacy of the nation’s anti-urban past. And Conn’s intellectual and cultural history, the first of its kind, will be the place to start.

Central Asia is one of the least studied and understood regions of the Eurasian landmass, conjuring up images of 19th century Great Power politics, endless steppe, and impenetrable regimes. Alexander Cooley, a professor of Political Science at Barnard College in New York, has studied the five post-Soviet states of Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, and Turkmenistan since the end of the Soviet Union and developed a strong reputation as a commentator on the region’s politics. His recent book Great Game, Local Rules: The New Great Power Contest in Central Asia (Oxford University Press, 2014) charts the course of the region’s engagement with Russia, the United States, and China in the decade following September 11th. It is a tale of great power competition, brazen graft, revolution, hydrocarbons, and authoritarian rule that serves as both an excellent introduction to the region’s current politics and a primer on where Central Asia may be headed in the 21st century. As the United States withdraws NATO forces from Afghanistan, Russia pushes its Eurasian Economic Community across the post-Soviet space, and China’s rapid industrialization leads Beijing to seek closer cooperation and trade with the region, Professor Cooley’s book could not be timelier.