Self-inflicted Wounds

It is a great civilizational achievement that we have a class of people who can dedicate their lives to thinking about books. It’s the most wonderful thing. We live in a society that is wealthy and confident enough to have a whole class of people tasked with guarding the cultural legacy of the world. Our Humanities were the wonder of the world. Every bookish kid on the planet looked up to it. It was an oasis. It was a miracle.

We are throwing this incredible achievement away in order to peddle vulgar online influencers. We have emptied the libraries. We have demonized lecturing and abjured the idea of a professor professing knowledge from the podium as a figure of intellectual authority. We have rubbished the canon and condemned intellectualism. We have enshrined pettiness and poor taste.

Nobody is making us do it. No occupational force that is hostile to culture took over. All of this is self-inflicted and eagerly sought out by the very people who will be made redundant by these policies.