Some ideas are too good not to share
A review of “The Swerve” by Stephen Greenblatt
Cover of “The Swerve: How the World Became Modern” by Stephen Greenblatt
Greenblatt, S. (2012). The Swerve: How the World Became Modern. W.W. Norton & Company, Inc. 356 pages.
Overview
Stephen Greenblatt’s Pulitzer Prize-winning “The Swerve” (2012) is about Poggio Bracciolini (1 February 1380 – 30 October 1459), a Renaissance official for Pope John XXIII, who wrote documents for the papal bureaucracy, turned book hunter. He made a paradigm-shifting discovery in a monastery in Fulda, southern Germany, in the winter of 1417 (p. 19): a manuscript by Titus Lucretius Carus titled “On the Nature of Things.” The book (poem) was lost and forgotten throughout the centuries, but its rediscovery played an influential role in shaping Western philosophical thought for the next few centuries. Bracciolini ensured it was copied widely and, without knowing or intending, he became a “midwife to modernity” (p. 13), argues Greenblatt.
A master wordsmith and American literary historian, Greenblatt elucidates a story of a driven man, voracious for learning and finding golden nuggets ignored or missed by previous book hunters. This is a story that philosophy, history, and literary buffs should not miss.
Before delving into the key takeaways, the “swerve” cleverly refers to the clinamen, “an unexpected, unpredictable movement of matter” (p. 7), representing a significant change or shift in a new direction (p. 11) — in this case, a new direction of thought which bred modernity.
Why read this book?
So why was “On The Nature of Things” so damn important? In Chapter Eight: The Way Things Are, Greenblatt conveniently provides a brief but not exhaustive, bulleted list of the poem’s contributions with straightforward explanations (p. 185-202). I will not regurgitate every point but mention just a few salient ideas.
The poem says that the universe contains inanimate and animate objects that consist of different compositions of atoms, all of which are indivisible and constantly in motion. One can imagine how thought-provoking this idea would have been for its time, but it gets more controversial. The poem also mentions that there are no gods, no purpose to existence, that humans ought to maximize their pleasure and reduce pain, and that religion is superstitious and violent, as evidenced by its obsession for retribution. Such thoughts and arguments, whether prose or poetry, indeed upset many established norms and people of faith.
It is clear that Lucretius was far ahead of his time, and his ideas improved the world’s thinking. For this blog’s overall theme, the main point is that science must triumph over superstition and that countries ought to improve the material well-being of their citizens, even if it means challenging firmly entrenched norms.
Key takeaways and lessons learned
Christians had a challenging time keeping people away from Epicureanism. Where proselytizing and cajoling failed, Christians resorted to shaming, committing violence, and spreading falsehoods of Lucretius, arguing that natural impulses were sin and enemies of truth (p. 102-103). To modern readers, early Christians’ attempts to assuage wrongdoers sounds eerily similar to what many extremist progressives do to public intellectuals who bravely express unorthodox or iconoclast ideas. Sadly, the resort to shaming and vilifying ideas and people seems to be a common theme throughout history, even though democracy and society flourish best when people are free to express their opinions.
And then there is the problematic belief that punishment and pain were necessary for salvation (p. 106-107), another shrewd form of trickery from the Church. Many felt they inherited the sins of Adam and Eve, and so monasteries and strict ecclesiastical observance gave structure to a hectic world. You have to hand it to them, though, because it made sense. Life in fifth and sixth century Europe was awful. You were likely to be the victim of war, robbery, rape, or poverty – likely all those things.
It demonstrates how ideas backed by vague and shaky evidence can easily catch on and persevere in times of need when living standards are abysmal. It is worth noting for any country more focused on symbolic gestures rather than public policies geared to improving peoples’ tangible, material circumstances.
Greenblatt explores how notable artists and authors would pen creative works flirting with Epicurean ideas and slyly criticizing Christianity. Examples include Lorenzo Valla’s “On Pleasure” or Thomas More’s “Utopia.” They are cogent examples that modern readers should ponder because they demonstrate how broaching contentious subjects with levity, humour, and creativity may persuade larger audiences while avoiding obloquy from established authorities. However, before anyone decides to rage against the machine, be aware that angry mobs or officials will persecute when threatened. Such was the fate of Giordano Bruno (p. 233-241), who was eventually tried and executed for his criticisms of the Church.
The role of luck in history is another utterly fantastic lesson from this book. Greenblatt explains that the ideas in “On the Nature of Things” would not have been saved had it not been for a random monk who felt it was worth preserving in the ninth century (p. 109). The point doesn’t sound special at first, considering how monks would preserve and copy books as part of their primary activities. But the find was a rare gem considering how scrolls and manuscripts in that era before the printing press and modern technology would quickly decay (p. 28), resulting in lost knowledge for the ages. We may like to believe that all of humanity’s accomplishments resulted from either genius or perspiration, probably because it makes us feel better about our possibilities. Yet, if this case demonstrates anything, it’s that we can never overlook luck when explaining why some societies flourish while others stagnate.
One minor quibble
The importance of “On The Nature of Things” may be a slight exaggeration. If anything, the influence of the manuscript was subtle. Greenblatt demonstrates its impact on significant world events, but I would not suggest, and nor does he, that this manuscript was the primary catalyst for critical events like the Protestant Reformation, Scientific Revolution, the Industrial Revolution, and gradual Western global dominance. There are far too many variables between the fifteenth to nineteenth centuries that partly explain the West’s rise. Additionally, it’s difficult to truly gauge the impact of Lucretius’s poem because of its limited citations, references and lack of data. Of course, as Greenblatt explains, the main issue was that these ideas were dangerous, and espousing or showing any interest in them would likely result in punishment and possibly death, hence the limited acknowledgements.
Nevertheless, it’s harder to compare the impacts of “On The Nature of Things” with other more tangible factors that shaped Western thought and development. These could include coal deposits, incomes, birthrates, pages/books printed by the printing press, agricultural yields, caloric consumption, war outcomes, and more. Despite this tiny issue, the book remains fun and informative to read. For instance, it was fascinating to learn how the “pursuit of happiness” was a nod to Lucretius in the American Declaration of Independence (p. 263).
Who should read this book?
Anyone looking for a story about an ambitious man who likely changed the course of history told in an enthralling way will enjoy “The Swerve.” Historians tend to focus on the notable events that shaped the values and thoughts of civilizations. But this book investigates the life of a relatively obscure figure and his significant contribution to humanity, simply by picking up a dirty old manuscript and making sure to copy it widely because he was smart enough to recognize the author’s brilliance.
Allow me to end with a beautiful quotation from Greenblatt that deeply resonated with me: “The pattern of dreaming and deferral and compromise is an altogether familiar one: it is the epitome of a failed life.” (p. 151). Regardless of one’s life’s circumstances, we must all have the courage to create our best lives.