| Gabriel |
I’m as excited as anybody about Sociological Science as it promises a clean break from the “developmental” model of peer review by moving towards an entirely evaluative model. That is, no more anonymous co-authors making your paper worse with a bunch of non sequiturs or footnotes with hedging disclaimers. (The journal will feature frequent comment and replies, which makes debate about the paper a public dialog rather than a secret hostage negotiation). The thing is though that optimistic as I am about the new journal, I don’t think it will replace the incumbent journals overnight and so we still need to fix review at the incumbent journals.
So how did peer review get broken at the incumbent journals?
You and I broke it.
Your average academic’s attitude towards changes demanded in R&R is like the Goofy cartoon “Motor Mania.”
In this cartoon Goofy is a meek pedestrian dodging aggressive drivers but as soon as he gets behind the wheel himself he drives like a total asshole. Similarly, as authors we all feel harassed by peer reviewers who try to turn our paper into the paper they would have written, but then as reviewers ourselves we develop an attitude of “yer doin it wrong!!!” and start demanding they cite all our favorite articles and with our favorite interpretations of those articles. (Note that in the linked post, Chen is absolutely convinced that she understands citations correctly and the author has gotten them wrong out of carelessness, without even considering the possibility that the interpretive flaw could be on her end or that there might be a reasonable difference of opinions).
So fixing peer review doesn’t begin with you, the author, yelling at your computer “FFS reviewer #10, maybe that’s how you would have done it, but it’s not your paper” (and then having a meeting with your co-authors that goes something like this):
And then spending the next few months doing revisions that feel like this:
And finally summarizing the changes in a response memo that sounds like this:
Nor, realistically, can fixing peer review happen from the editors telling you to go ahead and ignore comments 2, 5, and 6 of reviewer #6. First, it would be an absurd amount of work for the editors to adjudicate the quality of comments. Second, from the editor’s perspective the chief practical problem is recruiting reviewers and getting timely reviews from them and so they don’t want to alienate the reviewers by telling them that half their advice sucks in their cover letter any more than you want to do that in your response memo.
Rather, fixing peer review has to begin with you, the reviewer, telling yourself “maybe I would have done it another way myself, but it’s not my paper.” You need to adopt a mentality of “is it good how the author did it” rather than “how could this paper be made better” (read: how would I have done it). That is the whole of being a good reviewer, the rest is commentary. That said, here’s the commentary.
Do not brainstorm
Responding to a research question by brainstorming possibly relevant citations or methods is a wonderful and generous thing to do when a colleague or student mentions a new research project but it’s a thoroughly shitty thing to do as a peer reviewer. There are a few reasons why the same behavior is so different in two different contexts.
First, many brainstormed ideas are bad. When I give you advice in my office, you can just quietly ignore the ideas I give you that don’t work or are superfluous. When I give you advice as a peer reviewer there is a strong presumption that you take the advice even if it’s mediocre which is why almost every published paper has a couple of footnotes along the lines of “for purposes of this paper we assume that water is wet” or “although it has almost nothing to do with this paper, it’s worth noting that Author (YEAR) is pretty awesome.” Of course some suggestions are so terrible that the author can’t take them in good conscience but in such cases the author needs to spend hours or days per suggestion writing an apologetic and extremely deferential memo apologizing for not implementing the reviewer’s suggestions.
Second, many brainstormed ideas are confusing. When I give you advice in my office you can ask follow-up questions about how to interpret and implement it. When I give advice as a peer reviewer it’s up to you to hope that you read the entrails in a way that correctly augurs the will of the peer reviewers. As a related point, be as specific as possible. “This paper needs more Bourdieu” is a not terribly useful comment (indeed, “cite this” comments without further justification are usually less about any kind of intellectual content than they are about demanding shibboleths or the recitation of a creedal confession) whereas it might actually be pretty helpful to say “your argument about the role of critics on pages 4-5 should probably be described in terms of restricted field from Bourdieu’s Field of Cultural Production.” (Being specific has the ancillary benefit that it’s costly to the reviewer which should help you maintain the discipline to thin the mindfart herd stampeding into the authors’ revisions.)
Third, ideas are more valuable at the beginning of a project than at the end of it. When I give you advice about your new project you can use it to shape the way the project develops organically. When I give it to you as a reviewer you can only graft it on after the fact. My suggested specification may check the robustness of your finding or my suggested citation may help you frame your theory in a way that is more appealing, but they can’t help you develop your ideas because that ship has sailed.
That’s not to say that you shouldn’t give an author advice on how to fix problems with the paper. However it is essential to keep in mind that no matter how highly you think of your own expertise and opinions, you remember that the author doesn’t want to hear it. When you give advice, think in terms of “is it so important that these changes be made that I upset the author and possibly delay publication at a crucial career point.” Imagine burning a $20 bill for every demand you make of the author and ask yourself if you’d still make it. Trust me, the author would pay a lot more than $20 to avoid it — and not just because dealing with comments is annoying but because it’s time-consuming and time is money. It usually takes me an amount of time that is at least the equivalent of a course release to turn-around an R&R and at most schools a course release in turn is worth about $10,000 to $30,000 if you’re lucky enough to raise the grants to buy them. If you think about the productivity of science as a sector then ask yourself if your “I’m just thinking out loud” comment that takes the author a week to respond to is worth a couple thousand dollars to society. I mean, I’ve got tenure so in a sense I don’t care but I do feel a moral obligation to give society a good value in exchange for the upper middle class living it provides me and I don’t feel like I’m getting society its money’s worth when I spend four months of full-time work to turn around one round of R&R instead of getting to my next paper. This brings me to my next point…
Distinguish demands versus suggestions versus synapses that happened to fire as you were reading the paper
A lot of review comments ultimately boil down to some variation on “this reminds me of this citation” or “this research agenda could go in this direction.” OK, great. Now ask yourself, is it a problem that this paper does not yet do these things or are these just possibilities you want to share with the author? Often as not they’re really just things you want to share with the author but the paper is fine without them. If so, don’t demand that the author do them. Rather just keep it to yourself or clearly demarcate these as optional suggestions that the author may want to consider, possibly for the next paper rather than the revision of this paper.
As a related issue, demonstrate some rhetorical humility. Taking a commanding and indignant tone doesn’t mean you know what you’re talking about. On a recent review I observed, I noticed that one of the reviewers whose (fairly demanding) comments seemed to reflect a deep understanding of the paper nonetheless used a lot of phrases like “might,” “consider,” “could help,” etc whereas another reviewer who completely missed the point of the paper was prone to phrases like “needs to” and “is missing.”
There’s wrong and then there’s difference of opinion
On quite a few methodological and theoretical issues there is a reasonable range of opinion. Don’t force the author to weigh in on your side. It may very well be appropriate to suggest that the author acknowledge the existence of a debate on this subject (and perhaps briefly explore the implications of the alternative view) but that’s a different thing from expecting that the author completely switch allegiances because error has no rights. Often such demands are tacit rather than explicit, just taking for granted that somebody should use, I don’t know, Luhmann, without considering that the author might be among the many people who if told “you can cite Luhmann or you can take a beating” would ask you “tell me more about this beating? will there be clubs involved?”
For instance, consider Petev ASR 2013. The article relies heavily on McPherson et al ASR 2006, which is an extremely controversial article (see here, here, and here). One reaction to this would be to say the McPherson et al paper is refuted and ought not be cited. However Petev summarizes the controversy in footnote 10 and then in footnote 17 explains why his own data is a semi-independent (same dataset, different variables) corroboration of McPherson et al. These footnotes acknowledge a nontrivial debate about one of the article’s literature antecedents and then situates the paper within the debate. No matter what your opinion of McPherson et al 2006, you should be fine with Petev relying upon and supporting it while parenthetically acknowledging the debate about it.
There are also issues of essentially theoretical nature. I sat on one of my R&R for years in large part because I’m using a theory in its original version while briefly discussing how it would be different if we were to use a schism of the theory while one of the reviewers insists that I rewrite it from the perspective of the schismatic view. Theoretical debates are rarely an issue of decisive refutation or strictly cumulative knowledge but rather at any given time there’s a reasonable range of opinions and you shouldn’t demand that the author go with your view but at most that they explore its implications if they were to. Most quants will suggest robustness checks to alternative plausible model specifications without demanding that these alternative models are used in the actual paper’s tables, we should have a similar attitude towards treating robustness or scope conditions to alternative conceptions of theory as something for the footnotes rather than a root and branch reconceptualization of the paper.
There are cases where you fall on one side of a theoretical or methodological gulf and the author on another to the extent that you feel that you can’t really be fair. For instance, I can sometimes read the bibliography of a paper, see certain cites, and know instantly that I’m going to hate the paper. Under such circumstances you as the reviewer have to decide if you’re going to engage in what philosophers of science call “the demarcation problem” and sociologists of science call “boundary work” or you’re going to recuse yourself from the review. If you don’t like something but it has an active research program of non-crackpots then you should probably refuse to do the review rather than agreeing and inevitably rejecting. Note that the managing editor will almost always try to convince you to do the review anyway and I’ve never been sure if this is them thinking I’m giving excuses for being lazy and not being willing to let me off the hook, them being lazy about finding a more appropriate reviewer, or an ill-conceived principle that a good paper should be pleasing to all members of the discipline and thus please even a self-disclaimed hostile reader. Notwithstanding the managing editor’s entreaties, be firm about telling him or her, “no, I don’t feel I could be fair to a paper of type X, but please send me manuscripts of type Y or Z in the future.”
Don’t try to turn the author’s theory section into a lit review.
The author’s theory section should motivate the hypotheses. The theory section is not about demonstrating basic competence or reciting a creedal confession and so it does not need to discuss every book or article ever published on the subject or even just the things important enough to appear on your graduate syllabus or field exam reading list. If “AUTHOR (YEAR)” would not change the way we understand the submission’s hypotheses, then there’s no good reason the author needs to cite it. Yes, that is true even if the “omitted” citation is the most recent thing published on the subject or was written by your favorite grad student who you’re so so proud of and really it’s a shame that her important contribution isn’t cited more widely. If the submission reminds you of a citation that’s relevant to the author’s subject matter, think about whether it would materially affect the argument. If it would, explain how it would affect the argument. If it wouldn’t, then either don’t mention it at all or frame it as an optional suggestion rather than berating the author for being so semi-literate as to allow such a conspicuous literature lacuna.
By materially affect the argument I mostly have in mind the idea that in light of this citation the author would do the analysis or interpret the analysis differently. This is not the same thing as saying “you do three hypotheses, this suggests a fourth.” Rather it’s about this literature shows that doing it that way is ill-conceived and you’re better off doing it this way. It’s simplest if you think about in terms of methods where we can imagine a previous cite demonstrates how important it is for this phenomena that one models censorship, specifies a particular form for the dependent variable, or whatever. Be humble in this sort of thing though lest it turn into brainstorming.
Another form of materially affecting the argument would be if the paper is explicitly pitched as novel but it is in fact discussing a well understood problem. It is not necessarily a problem if the article discusses an issue in terms of literature X but does not also review literature Y that is potentially related. However it is a problem if the author says nobody has ever studied issue A in fashion B when there is in fact a large literature from subfield Y that closely parallels what the author is pitching. More broadly, you should call the authors on setting up straw man lit review, where one special case of that would be “there is no literature.” (Note to authors: be very careful with “this is unprecedented” claims). Again, be humble in how you apply this lest it turn into a pretext for demanding that every article not only motivate its positive contribution, but also be prefaced with an exhaustive review that would be suitable for publication in ARS.
There is one major exception to the rule that a paper should have a theory section and not a lit review, which is when the authors are importing a literature that is likely to be unfamiliar to their audience and so they need more information than usual to get up to speed. Note though that this is an issue best addressed by the reviewers who are unfamiliar with the literature and for whom it is entirely appropriate to say something like “I was previously unfamiliar with quantum toad neuropathology and I suspect other readers will be as well so I ask that rather than assuming a working knowledge of this literature that the author please add a bit more background information to situate the article and point to a good review piece or textbook for those who want even more background.” Of course that’s rarely how the “do more lit review” comments go. Rather such comments tend to be from people with a robust knowledge of theory X and they want to ensure that the authors share that knowledge and gavage it into the paper’s front end. I’m speaking from personal experience as on several occasions I have used theories that are exotic to sociologists and while several of the reviewers said they were glad to learn about this new-to-them theory and how it fits with more mainstream sociology like peanut butter and chocolate, nobody asked for more background on it. And I’m cool with that since it means my original drafts provided sufficient background info for them to get the gist of the exotic theory and how it was relevant. Of course, I did get lots of “you talk about Bourdieu, but only for ten pages when you could easily go for twenty.” That is, nobody wants to know more about something they didn’t know before and need a little more background knowledge to get up to speed, but everybody wants to yell “play Freebird!” This is exactly backwards of how it should be.
Don’t let flattery give you a big head
It is customary for authors to express their gratitude to the reviewers. You might take from this to think, “ahhh, Gabriel’s wrong about R&Rs being broken,” or more likely “that may be true of other reviewers, but I provide good advice since, after all, they thank me for it.” Taking at face value an author who gushes about what a wonderful backseat driver you are is like watching a prisoner of war saying “I would like to thank my captors for providing me with adequate food and humane treatment even as my country engages in unprovoked imperialist aggression against this oppressed people.” Meanwhile he’s blinking “G-E-T-M-E-O-U-T-O-F-H-E-R-E” in Morse code.
Appreciate the constraints imposed on the author by the journal:
Many journals impose a tight word count. When you ask an author to also discuss this or that, you’re making it very difficult for them to keep their word count. One of the most frustrating things as an author is getting a cover letter from the editor saying “Revise the manuscript to include a half dozen elaborate digressions demanded by the reviewers, but don’t break your word count.”
Some journals demand that authors include certain material and you need to respect that. ASR is obsessed with articles speaking to multiple areas of the discipline. This necessarily means that an article that tries to meet this mandate won’t be exclusively oriented towards your own subfield and it may very well be that its primary focus is on another literature and its interest in your own literature being secondary. Don’t view this as an incompetent member of your own subfield but as a member of another subfield trying (under duress) to build bridges to your subfield. Similarly some journals demand implications for social policy or for managers. Even if you would prefer value neutrality (or value-laden but with a different set of values) or think it’s ridiculous to talk as if firms will change their business practices because somebody did a t-test, appreciate that this may be a house rule of the journal and the author is doing the best she can to meet it.
Stand up to the editors:
You can be the good guy. Or if necessary, you can demand a coup de grace. But either way you can use your role as a reviewer to push the editors and your fellow reviewers towards giving the authors a more streamlined review process.
First, you can respond to the other parts of the reviews and response memo from the previous round. If you think the criticisms were unfair or that the author responded to them effectively, go ahead and say so. It makes a big difference to the author if she can make explicit that the other reviewers are with her.
Second, you can cajole the editors to make a decision already. In your second round R&R review tell the editors that there’s never going to be a complete consensus among the reviewers and they should stop dicking the authors around with R&Rs. You can refuse to be the dreaded “new reviewer.” You can refuse to review past the first round R+R. You can tell the editors that you’re willing to let them treat your issues as a conditional accept adjudicated by them rather than as another R&R that goes back to you for review.
Just as importantly as being nice, you can tell the editors to give a clean reject. Remember, an R&R does not mean “good but not great” or “honorable mention” but “this could be rewritten to get an accept.” Some flaws (often having to do with sampling or generalizability) are of a nature that they simply can’t be fixed so even if you like the other aspects of the paper you should just reject. Others may be fixable in principle (often having to do with the lit review or model specification) but in practice doing so would require you to rewrite the paper for the authors and it benefits nobody for you to appoint yourself anonymous co-author. Hence my last point…
Give decisive rejections
I’ve emphasized how to be nice to the authors by not burdening them with superfluous demands However it’s equally important to be decisive about things that are just plain wrong. I have a lot of regrets about my actions as a peer reviewer and if I were to go through my old review reports right now I’d probably achieve Augustinian levels of self-reproach. Many of them of are of the nature of “I shouldn’t have told that person to cite/try a bunch of things that didn’t really matter because by so doing I was being the kind of spend-the-next-year-on-the-revisions-to-make-the-paper-worse reviewer I myself hate to get.” However, I don’t at all regret, for instance, a recommendation to reject that I wrote in which I pointed out that the micro-mechanisms of the author’s theory were completely incompatible with the substantive processes in the empirical setting and that the quantitative model was badly misspecified. Nor do I regret recommending to reject a paper because it relied on really low quality data and its posited theoretical mechanism was a Rube Goldberg device grounded in a widely cited but definitively debunked paper. Rather my biggest regret as a reviewer is that I noticed a manuscript had a grievous methodological flaw that was almost certainly entirely driving the results but I raised the issue in a hesitant fashion and the editor published the paper anyway. As I’ve acquired more experience on both sides of the peer review process, I’ve realized that being a good peer reviewer isn’t about being nice, nor is it about providing lots of feedback. Rather being a good reviewer is about evaluating which papers are good and which papers are bad and clearly justifying those decisions. I’m honored to serve as a consulting editor for Sociological Science because that is what that journal asks of us but I also aspire to review like that regardless of what journal I’m reviewing for and I hope you will too. (Especially if you’re reviewing my papers).
| Gabriel |
1st of March, 1600 Anno Domini
To his majesty Felipe Hapsburg III,
His majesty Christian den Fjerde, king of Denmark-Norway, sends you greetings and congratulations on your recent ascension and wishes your reign to extend peace and prosperity to Spain.
We are writing to alert you that your realm’s “New Spain” project infringes on methods belonging to the Kingdom of Denmark-Norway. We wish to offer you an opportunity for licensing, including back-royalties for past activities of New Spain.
In particular, the kingdom of Denmark-Norway lays claim to various patents and other intellectual property stemming from its “Vinland” project with various filings contained in the Íslendingasögur. Although the Vinland project is no longer an ongoing project, in bankruptcy its assets have reverted to the crown and among these are various techniques infringed upon by New Spain. The most important of these patents is for “Growth in Commerce and Enrichment of the Realm Through Expansion to Lands Across the Ocean.” However New Spain also infringes on various other of the Vinland patents, including “A Method for Enslavement of Skrælingjar” and “Export of Agricultural Commodities Derived From Exotic Plants.”
We would therefore like to offer you the opportunity to license the Vinland patents to cover your activities in New Spain. A licensing deal must account not only prospectively but retrospectively for all such stuffs exported back into Christendom. It has come to our attention that New Spain has to date exported approximately 17,000 tons of silver in addition to several hundred tons of gold and many more tons of exotic useful things such as tabac, maize, cocoa, and various spices.
Please send an embassy to discuss licensing terms and royalties immediately so as to avoid a cease and desist on all activities of New Spain.
His Majesty King Christian IV
| Gabriel |
LaTeX makes beautiful output and Lyx makes it relatively easy to do so by obviating the need to learn a markup language, but woah be it unto him who needs the document to look a particular way that goes against the defaults. In particular, the people who wrote this software seemed to have no idea of ASA style. Here’s how you get the citations to meet ASA style.
Unfortunately this defaults to “X leads to Y (Author, 2013)” instead of “X leads to Y (Author 2013).” After years of just living with the superfluous comma, I finally realized there’s an easy fix, just paste this into the “LaTeX Preamble” tab of Document Settings.
When you create the bibliography make sure you use the asr.bst file. It’s not a standard part of the TeX install so save it locally then navigate to it from inside the Lyx bibliography dialog.
That will get your document to have ASA style cites. As far as the overall style, I usually just go with the basic “article” document class unless the journal provides a cls file (which most of them don’t in sociology, although Sociological Science will do so for accepted manuscripts).
| Gabriel |
Like many people I was influenced by Ronald Coase and thinking about him on the occasion of his passing at the age of 102. Coase himself wasn’t fond of certain applications of the Coase theorem because people read it as “you can bargain” and forgot just how big an if it is to add “if the transaction costs are low enough.”
Adam Ozimek had a great post on another problem with the Coase theorem, which is that it creates incentives to over-produce externalities in the hope of side-payments. That is, it leads to extortion. In a nutshell Adam argues that reframing things from unpriced conventions to priced exchanges makes a big difference, especially when you’re dealing with assholes. Go read Adam’s post, you’ll enjoy it and I’ll wait.
I mostly wanted to point towards Adam’s post because he said a lot of what I was thinking, but I might as well add a few related thoughts.
First, Coase himself recognized this issue in his analysis of payola (which heavily influenced my own analysis of that subject in Climbing the Charts). In particular he noted that record labels (and before them music publishers) are much better off if you can’t buy airplay (and before that, placement in set lists) since once you can it quickly becomes mandatory and indeed the music industry occasionally formed monopsonistic cartels to (ineffectually attempt to) suppress the practice.
Second, the film industry experiences problems very much like what Adam is describing. If I’m minding my own business vacuuming my house and a PA from the film shoot next door knocks on my door and asks me to do it tomorrow instead and offers me $100 for my trouble, that’s classic Coasian bargaining. But eventually this leads to people driving around town looking for film shoots and then getting out leaf blowers, air horns, or whatever and this became so common that the state legislature of California wrote a law against it, as summarized by the state senate analyst:
Film producers complain that they are increasingly beset by knowing and malicious disruption of film production by bystanders who extort cash payments in exchange for stopping the disruptive activity. Production companies often accede to the extortionate demands because it is cheaper to pay $1000 or more to be able to continue filming than to stop and set up the production for another day. Among the more common disruptive practices are: reflecting light at cameras during filming to ruin film exposure and blowing air horns, or using leafblowers to interfere with sound recording.
Theoretically, such disruptive activity could be considered extortion, but for extortion to be committed, the threat must be to do something unlawful. A lawful act, even if reprehensible, is not criminal, and the kinds of acts complained of are usually not criminal. While it may be rude to shine headlights on a set, or run a leafblower nearby, it is probably not punishable as extortion. AB 534 (Brulte), pending in the Senate, seeks to resolve the same problem as this bill by criminalizing specific disruptive activities, making the conduct misdemeanor disorderly conduct or disturbing the peace.
Third, even in the absence of strategic extortion attempts, reframing from courtesy to market can make big differences in how people behave. The cite for this is “A Fine Is a Price” which showed that parents were more likely to show up late at daycare when there was a fine for this than when it was merely prohibited. In principle you could solve this by making the fine bigger until the workers saw it as desirable overtime, but that would lead to resentment on the part of the parents. (I’ve previously discussed this article at Megan’s old place).
| Gabriel |
This post contains two Stata do-files for constructing the “Oscar appeal” variable at the center of Rossman & Schilke “Close But No Cigar.”
| Gabriel |
A couple months ago, I read Were the Jews a Mediterranean Society? Reciprocity and Solidarity in Ancient Judaism by Schwartz. As suggested by the subtitle, in this sense “Mediterranean” is not a geographic designation but a synonym for clientelism. This combines two of my favorite interests, Western civ history and comparative exchange, and so naturally I had to read it when I saw it in the PUP catalog.
As background, it helps to understand that clientelism (aka hierarchy, patronage, or authority ranking) is one of the basic modes of human organization. One of the many ways that our culture is WEIRD is that to us clientelism is relatively unimportant in fact and even less so in salience. The logic of clientelism is premised on reciprocity under conditions of inequality. So you have higher status people giving gifts to lower status people, who in turn incur social obligations to the higher status people. In the process the former become patrons and the latter clients. In the extreme case this can turn into debt slavery, but even short of that you see the clients reciprocating with deference (thereby conferring status to their patrons), votes, and fighting in the patron’s military unit. My favorite example of reciprocity through deference comes from JLM’s Social Structures (p. 206), when he notes that non-military feudal reciprocity “was usually minor or degrading or both: in return for the manor of Hemingstone, the tenant was required to `leap, whistle and fart for the king’s amusement’ every Christmas day.” (For more background on clientelism, read Graeber’s Debt, JLM’s Social Structures, and Fiske’s RMT).
Anyway, back to the Hellenistic/principate era Judaism that is Schwartz’s empirical focus, you probably won’t be surprised to hear that his conclusion is that Jews exhibited both clientelism and solidarity during this period. Nonetheless, he sees Jews as exhibiting relatively less clientelism and relatively more solidarity than your typical Hellenistic culture. That is, Jewish culture was unusual in providing charity to the poor without turning them into clients, and in particular with constraints on debt slavery and weak institutions of euergetism (civic philanthropy as clientelism). In this respect it makes sense to take a sort of glass half full approach and ask where did the solidarity come from?
The source of solidarity is God, or to be more precise about it the Bible, and to be even more precise about it, P, D, and the prophets. (For background on Hebrew source criticism concepts like “P,” listen to the Yale OT course by Hayes or read Who Wrote the Bible by Friedman). The prophets and priests who wrote these parts of the Bible, and to a certain extent the rabbis who developed the subsequent interpretive tradition, were developing an ideology of mutual support and a polemic against reciprocity since to hold a client in debt implies that they are not members of the same community with obligations to one another on the same level as between members of the same household. This is seen most clearly in passages like Deuteronomy 23:19, which prohibits charging interest to another member of the community and likewise in other parts of the Bible that demand debt jubilees in which debts are forgiven (and in anticipation of which one is supposed to nonetheless continue making “loans” to those who need them despite the imminent foreseeable mass debt amnesty). That is, in Fiske’s terms, these strands of the Bible are engaging in polemic against authority ranking and in favor of communal sharing. It is telling that debt jubilees come from the P source, which suggests an underlying class dynamic of priests contesting with landowners for the support of the masses, very similar to the oratores/bellatores split of the mediaeval elite or the models of a semi-autonomous intellectual class found in Gramsci, Bourdieu, and new class theory.
However the glass half empty is that, as Schwartz emphasizes, this was to a large extent an aspirational ideology and in practice Hellenistic/principate (and presumably Biblical) era Jews didn’t always live up to it, but still had a fair amount of clientelism. In some cases this was genteel clientelism, as with the rabbinic traditions in which one reciprocated the mentorship of a master rabbi with praise (much as a 21st century academic will write journal articles citing her doctoral advisor), and yeah, this is a form of clientelism but it’s a pretty far cry from debt slavery. At the other extreme you’ve got The Wisdom of Sirach, which Schwartz reads as a sort of a Hellenized Jew’s “How to Win Friends and Influence People” type deal, complete with full-blown Bourdieu among the Kabyle-ism in which the instrumentality of gift giving is just barely sublimated.
It’s interesting that Joshua ben Sira was a thoroughly Hellenized chap, living in Alexandria (the same diaspora community that included his book in its great cultural achievement, the LXX Bible). This cosmopolitanism and cynicism to a large extent go together. Part of the logic of communal sharing is that it only works within tightly bound communities and indeed in lab experiments you prime communal sharing by emphasizing the alter’s common membership in a highly salient community. We also see this logic in the parts of the Bible that demand egalitarianism. For instance, the very next verse after Deuteronomy 23:19′s famous prohibition against interest allows the exception that one can charge interest to foreigners (including resident aliens).
Parts of the Bible are downright genocidal, but what’s interesting is that these parts are uniformly directed towards what we might call an especially energetic form of boundary work. That is, the Bible reserves its most bloodthirsty passages for other peoples who threaten to undermine the particularity of Israel through intermarriage and encouraging apostasy (issues which the Bible sees as nearly synonymous). (e.g., Numbers 31:15-17, Deuteronomy 20:16-18). Nor can you really separate the “nice” Bible that discourages exploitation from the “mean” Bible that demands men divorce their foreign wives and that the nation wage genocidal campaigns against the nations within Canaan. Intense social closure (at least in aspiration) and intense altruism (at least in aspiration) were mutually supportive. What undergirds both of these issues is that the nation is defined by relationship to Yahweh. The Bible defines Israel not primarily by common descent from Abraham’s twelve legitimate great-grandsons but rather by common affirmation of the covenant Abraham cut with Yahweh. Notably, most of the covenant language follows the genre conventions of Near Eastern vassalage treaties. Although the Bible vacillates on such issues as whether Yahweh’s protection is contingent, all versions of the covenant establish Yahweh as patron of Israel which means that relations of Jews to one another are as mutual clients to a single patron. Now in general co-clients often lack horizontal ties, but this structural equivalence means that there’s the ideological raw material there to build an aspirational case that horizontal ties among these co-clients are as members of a common household. We see this view make the jump to Christianity, yet again primarily as an aspiration, in Paul’s view of the church (including the laity) as the new Israel and internal to which there were to be altruistic relations (e.g., his letters to the Corinthians, which both encapsulate supersessionist covenant theology by rejecting circumcision and demand egalitarian relations within the community through internal arbitration of disputes, sharing the agape feast, etc).
Conversely, the decline of particularism and closure is associated with the decline in altruism. Nelson’s thesis is that the taboo against usury relaxed with the decline of a notion of tribalism. Similarly, we see a close reflection of this in the common observation that welfare states are most likely to arise in highly homogenous high trust societies like Scandinavia and less so in heterogenous societies like the United States. However much there might be an aspiration towards universal altruism it looks much like the product of universal and altruism are more or less a constant, such that if you increase one, you tend to decrease the other. An extremely open society is one in which we can hope people will refrain from swindling one another, but it’s probably too much to expect that they will consider highly inegalitarian relationships to be inappropriate or engage in unreciprocated altruism.
| Gabriel |
One of the innumerable WTF moments in HBO’s Liberace biopic Behind the Candelabra is when Liberace suggests that he adopt his young lover. I think we’re clearly meant as an audience to first think gross, that’s fictive kin incest (see also: Nugent, Ted), and second, you know, before gay marriage that would have been the closest available approximation of marital fictive kinship available to homosexuals.
In the big picture I think the second intuition is on the right track, though it’s interesting to note that historically (adult) adoption does not necessarily connote sexual inappropriateness. In classical pederasty there was an apprenticeship relationship between erastes and eromenos, in which the older erastes would mentor the younger eromenos and this sometimes culminated in adoption. (It helps if you know that in real life Tom was 17 when he met Liberace, which makes this similar to classical pederasty in terms of age gap — although not sexual roles).
A more common practice is the adoption of a son-in-law. Again, from our perspective, adoption makes someone kin which by extension makes marriage to a daughter incest. However in some times and places they think of adoption and son-in-law status as a sort of belt-and-suspenders approach to dynastic succession and incest doesn’t enter into it because after all it’s just fictive kinship. Again, we see this in antiquity where the Roman emperors in particular used adoption to clarify dynastic succession and often combined it with marital alliances. For instance, Augustus had a triple fictive kinship with Tiberius: marrying his mother while he was still in utero (the rare wife swap marital alliance, also used by Cato), marrying him to his daughter (who yes, was Tiberius’s own step-sister) Julia, and finally adopting him.
Likewise, son-in-law adoption is also common in Japan. When a wealthy Japanese family has no sons, the family will identify a non-kin heir, marry him to its daughter, and adopt him. Thus the daughter doesn’t inherit property, nor exactly does even the son-in-law in his capacity as son-in-law, but rather property goes to the adopted son-in-law and so the family maintains (fictive) continuity of the male line even though genetic continuity is matrilineal for that generation.
What I think we see in these cases is people trying to find some mechanism to game around anomalies or problems presented by kinship and are rather selective in how they parse the implications of fictive kinship. My son-in-law is also my real son: great, I like the cut of his jib and I want this young go-getter to carry my name and inherit my property. Isn’t it weird that my adopted son is married to his legal sister: don’t be so literal, they’re not blood relatives.
That said, Behind the Candelabra doesn’t take place in Japan or ancient Rome but Las Vegas c. 1980 so it’s still pretty creepy.