What Makes for a Powerful Synthesis?
Not long ago, a friend recommended a book about recent American political and economic history. He called it a ‘synthesis’ and, of course, that descriptor immediately caught my attention. Somewhat unexpectedly, two other friends then challenged the positive connotation of that characterization, contending that the book did not merit the favorable attention that it had been receiving.
I decided to read the book—in fact, I’ve now read it twice—and I believe that the book is not simply a synthesis—it’s a good synthesis, even a powerful one. I’ll explain why I have reached that conclusion. But whether or not you’ve read the book, and whether or not you agree with my evaluation, I hope that my reflections about syntheses will be thought-provoking.
In a sense, all nonfiction books are syntheses. This is certainly true of history books. As I’ve argued at some length—indeed, in a series of five blog posts (links here to 1, 2, 3, 4, 5)—history is the scholarly discipline that foregrounds the synthesizing mind. And the book that has prompted this blog—Gary Gerstle’s The Rise and Fall of the Neoliberal Order: America and the World in the Free Market Era—is an explicit effort to synthesize political, economic, social, and cultural events of the last century.
Very briefly: Gerstle begins with a discussion of the failings of President Herbert Hoover (in office, 1929-1933). Hoover was the president who had the misfortune of being at the helm following the stock market crash of 1929. Gerstle credits Hoover’s successor, Franklin D. Roosevelt (1933-1945), creator of the New Deal, with ushering in an era of liberal thought and action. Under Roosevelt, the government did not hesitate to create programs and institutions that helped support the less fortunate members of society. On Gerstle’s account, this liberal initiative lasted, more or less, through the 1960s.
Meanwhile, starting in the 1950s, growing slowly over the next two decades, and culminating in the election of two-term president Ronald Reagan (1981-1989), a new “neo-liberal” era came to dominate the American political scene as well as the British scene, under Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher (1979-1990). Under this neoliberal approach, ambitious governmental programs were seen as problematic. Instead, the health and growth of society was seen to require the unleashing of market forces independent of governmental intervention.
Neoliberalism’s origins lie primarily in economic thought, dating back to Europe early in the twentieth century (Vienna) and to the United States in mid-century (University of Chicago); but it also arises in economic-social critiques such as those put forth by novelist Ayn Rand, as well as thought leaders like William F. Buckley and wealthy donors like the Koch brothers. These strands of thought came together in the presidency of Ronald Reagan, who was not only a true believer but also an extremely effective spokesperson and a non-threatening embodiment of the neoliberal ethos.
The neoliberal era survived, more or less, until the election of Barack Obama in 2008. Thereafter, it gradually disintegrated, marked in the United States by the presidency of Donald Trump (2017-2021), the disappearance of any semblance of political consensus in Congress, and acute uncertainty about which political philosophy or philosophies should succeed Rooseveltian liberalism and Reagan-Thatcher neo-liberalism.
Viewed from this sufficient distance, I don’t think that Gerstle’s argument would raise eyebrows. I have lived through most of this period and, as a bonus, I learned a great deal about the pre-Eisenhower era through recordings of newscasts by legendary CBS newsmen Edward R. Murrow and Walter Cronkite. (The series was called “I Can Hear it Now.”) Indeed, in reading (and re-reading) this history, I felt I was just revisiting, at warp sweep, a montage of the last American century.
What in Gerstle’s book merits the praise ( and occasional criticism ) that it has received? Gerstle minimizes the importance of political parties and membership per se showing that liberalism and neoliberalism cut across parties. On his account, the New Deal did not simply encompass Roosevelt and Truman. Instead, Dwight Eisenhower, a Republican, is seen as carrying the liberal cause forward, just as are his Democratic successors, John Kennedy (1961-1963), Lyndon Johnson (1963-1969), and even a considerable proportion of Republican Richard Nixon’s time in office (1969-1974). The New Deal synthesis was undermined to a significant degree by Democratic President Jimmy Carter (1977-1981), who embraced efforts to reduce the hegemony of government, and de-regulate various industries. Partners in this undermining of the New Deal include activist Ralph Nader, legal scholar Lewis Powell, and financier William Simon: each, for somewhat different reasons, critiqued the power of government in the economic sphere. To a significant measure, it is for his demonstration that liberalism and neoliberalism both cut across political parties, that Gerstle merits the praise (and occasional criticism) that his book has elicited.
In lay discussion of political trends, we usually contrast liberal and conservative approaches. But the neoliberal political consensus of recent decades described by Gerstle is not well-described by the word “conservative.” Conservative generally connotes a reluctance to change things, a valorization of the past, as well as the embracing of certain religious and cultural values. None of these terms applies accurately to the trends described by Gerstle. Hence his embracing of the somewhat clumsy but less misleading descriptor, neo-liberal.
Just as Roosevelt’s paradigm (and I will return to that term later) lasted thirty or forty years, so did Reagan’s. And again, this state of affairs makes for strange bedfellows. President Bill Clinton and Speaker of the House, Newt Gingrich, are usually portrayed as mortal political enemies; yet on Gerstle’s account, they shared a critique of big government, hostility to those who did not hold jobs (which included many members of minority groups), enthusiasm for globalization, and an intoxication with the new technologies, along with a belief that these ought to be allowed to operate as freely, in as unregulated a fashion as possible. (Importantly: None of these would be accurately described by the traditional term “conservative”.) In the background were such sundry individuals as thought leader Esther Dyson, futurist Stewart Brand, innovator Steve Jobs, and economists like Alan Greenspan, Robert Rubin, and Lawrence Summers. Those who opposed their philosophy were seen as sore losers, or perhaps just losers.
Under President Barack Obama (2009-2017), this neo-liberal consensus broke down for many reasons. Chief among them were the recession-depression of 2007-2008, the costs and casualties of globalization, including the increasingly bleak job outlook for those who could not keep in step with the demands and opportunities of the new (sometimes dubbed “gig”) economy. Yet again, extreme dissatisfaction gave rise to strange bedfellows. Gerstle links the right-wing Tea Party with the left-wing Occupy (Wall Street) movement, and, perhaps in a first, the upheaval politics of then presidential candidate Donald Trump with those embraced by Vermont Senator Bernie Sanders (and, to a lesser degree, by Massachusetts Senator Elizabeth Warren). Whatever their disparate causes and policies, these combined forces undermine the neoliberal consensus that had existed since the time of Reagan; and they catalyze a search for options that may well not feature the same ingredients as the earlier liberal and neo-liberal consensuses.
So, in a nutshell, that’s the Gerstle thesis. (I use that term deliberately!) In the popular press, and particularly in Britain, Gerstle’s book has received very positive reviews. These reviewers believe that Gerstle’s re-working of the events of the last century is notable and noteworthy—as do I. And some note that Gerstle’s own political leanings are not evident—a positive feature in my judgment, as this helps to render his account unbiassed. But among my friends, which include those with professional training in American history (see also a few grumpy reviewers on Amazon), the verdict has been much less favorable. Some of the critiques surrounds the use (or, they would argue, the misuse) of the term neo-liberal; more of the critique centers on the reading (or they would argue, the misreading) of the economic, cultural, and political forces of the last century. If the work is a synthesis, they argue, it is a flawed synthesis and one that is likely to mislead rather than to enlighten.
I am not trained as an historian and I do not intend to carry on the debate here. Instead, in the spirit of the dozens of blogs in the series, I want to reflect on what is entailed in a powerful synthesis.
A promising guide for this discussion is one of the best (and most paradigm-breaking) works of past decades—Thomas Kuhn’s The Structure of Scientific Revolutions. An historian of science, Kuhn observed that in the sciences (physics, chemistry, biology), one typically observes eras characterized by consensus on how best to make sense of the world, with scientists going about their business, adding the proverbial brick to the scientific edifice.
But very occasionally, a new scholar (or group of scholars) comes to the fore. Such individuals read the scientific evidence very differently, and put forth a new way of making sense which sooner or later affects how subsequent scientists carry out their work and how they interpret their data. Examples of such paradigm-breakers include Lavoisier in 18th-century chemistry (with his oxygen theory of combustion), Darwin in 19th-century biology (with his theory of evolution), and Einstein in 20th-century physics (with his theory of special relativity).
Kuhn worked in the sciences; he was accordingly hesitant to apply his argument to other disciplines. But I contend that there are also paradigms in history, and occasionally historians change the way in which their successors conceptualize and carry out their work. In the recent history of the discipline of history, one can cite the introduction of psychiatry and psychology (psycho-history), economics (cliometrics), and of course the consideration of populations that had been largely ignored (women, minorities, common people).
Occasionally, historians appear who alter the way in which we consider our national history. Examples could include Frederick Jackson Turner, who proposed the ‘frontier’ theory of American history; Richard Hofstadter, who foregrounded the paranoid streak in American history, and Arthur Meier Schlesinger, Jr, who posited cycles of American history.
Gary Gerstle may or may not harbor such an ambition but that does not matter. The work needs to—and ultimately will—speak for itself. Here are two possibilities:
The work will have its day but will not change significantly how others perceive and write about 1930-2020. And that’s not a bad fate.
The work will fundamentally change how the last century has been perceived, and historically-minded observers will in the future speak about the “Gerstle” paradigm.
Returning to the word synthesis, and following the Greek philosophers (as well as the German philosopher, Hegel), we can see Gerstle as putting forward a powerful but provocative thesis; his critics (including some of my friends) will put forth their critique (an anti-thesis); and at some point in the future, a new synthesis will emerge. Which in turn should lead to a new anti-thesis, and the cycle will continue… as long as humans care about such issues.
Thanks to Lynn Barendsen, Courtney Bither, Shinri Furuzawa, Kirsten McHugh, Danny Mucinskas, and Ellen Winner for their helpful comments on an earlier draft.
References
Gerstle, G. (2022). Rise and Fall of the Neoliberal Order: America and the world in the free market era. New York: Oxford University Press.
Kuhn, T. (1962). The Structure of Scientific Revolutions. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.