Allan Bloom on Music

By coincidence, I happen to be reading Allan Bloom’s 1987 book criticising the state of education (though primarily higher education) while this musical literacy controversy has unfolded. In The Closing of the American Mind, Bloom argues against a creeping moral relativism and an education system that tries to make students not into ‘scholars but to provide them with a moral virtue — openness’. Paradoxically, it is this same ‘openness’ that has closed minds — ‘openness results in American conformism’, Bloom writes. One thinks of the classic G.K. Chesterton line, that ‘the object of opening the mind, as of opening the mouth, is to shut it again on something solid.’ If you never close your mind on something, you’ll be intolerant of or indifferent to anyone who argues with you — in other words anyone who has themselves sensibly closed their minds. A rejection of certainties and absolutes and truth will limit the extent to which you can meaningfully engage with and interrogate the world. And this idea is of course very popular now on the right and the ‘anti-left’, if you will. (Though I would say the only prominent contemporary public academic who is equally as articulate as Bloom on the matter is Jordan Peterson. Mostly the discourse is pretty lousy, which he kind of predicted; I’m not sure Bloom would have been impressed by the rise of ‘alternative media’, for instance.)

Somewhat unexpectedly, there’s an entire chapter on the state of music education. In it, he argues that rock music in particular ‘ruins the imagination of young people and makes it very difficult for them to have a passionate relationship to the art and thought that are the substance of liberal education.’ Bloom follows a long lineage of thinkers who have been suspicious of many aspects of music. With the exception of Lenin, who was only suspicious of music because it encouraged beauty and niceness, most of them were religious: certain early protestants, Islamists, Augustine in his Confessions detailing the seduction of chant, and both Orthodox and Roman Catholic suspicion of musical instruments instead of voice. Bloom goes even further back to Plato who similarly saw music as ‘the barbarous expression of the soul’. ‘Music,’ Bloom writes, ‘is the medium of the human soul in its most ecstatic condition of wonder and terror’. (That sounds positively Burkean.)

He argues that classical music attempts to tame the soul’s raw passions by forming them into art. It is a civilising process, the application of reason and education to a wild passion. Bloom isn’t arguing that music is any way neutered by this process. Instead, music education should give people the means to extend and manipulate this joy in pursuit of a greater version of themselves. ‘Education is not sermonizing to children against their instincts and pleasures, but providing a natural continuity between what they feel and what they can and should be.’ But what are we to make of works that very skillfully exacerbate the intrinsic barbarism of music? Bloom seem to be suspicious of young people’s fondness for Ravel’s Bolero, for it has ‘the beat of sexual intercourse’. Where did he stand on a deliberately savage work like Rite of Spring? Do works like these discourage ‘cooperation of the sentiments’? Don’t these provide ‘premature ecstasy’? I am somewhat weary of exercising what seems to be a moral judgement on music itself. There are more reliable ways to argue that modern pop music is largely bad music and bad culture. Sure, music definitely needs to be formed into something good and meaningful, but why must the starting point be barbarism and not, say, innocence?

Bloom argues that the lack of talent or virtue in the music makes it it an easy and dangerous drug: ‘it artificially induces the exaltation naturally attached to the completion of the greatest endeavours’.  Those who take drugs and have gotten over it, ‘find it difficult to have enthusiasms or great expectations’. This extends to those addicted to rock music, whose untamed ecstasy can lead the young to find normalcy — reality — grim and harsh, once they get over rock music. Okay, but considering most people have not gotten over rock music, and that their passion for it has not really subsided, this prognosis hasn’t survived the test of time. What he is right to point out is that ‘as long as they have the Walkman on, they cannot hear what the great tradition has to say. And, after its pro-longed use, when they take it off, they find they are deaf’. In that way, it is a numbing drug. And that deafness is very real, and can be difficult to crawl out of, as I can personally attest. The best analogy is sexual, as music is arguably the most sensuous of the arts. Fetish and pornography will dull one to the beauty of sex. You have this exciting, visceral, barbarous music. But without being civilised, it only starves and steals from the soul. Bloom convincingly portrays the resulting musical culture as dystopian:

Picture a thirteen-year-old boy sitting in the living room of his family home doing his math assignment while wearing his Walkman headphones or watching MTV. He enjoys the liberties hard won over centuries by the alliance of philosophic genius and political heroism, consecrated by the blood of martyrs; he is provided with comfort and leisure by the most productive economy ever known to mankind; science has penetrated the secrets of nature in order to provide him with the marvellous, lifelike electronic sound and image reproduction he is enjoying. And in what does progress culminate? A pubescent child whose body throbs with orgasmic rhythms; whose feelings are made articulate in hymns to the joys of onanism or the killing of parents; whose ambition is to win fame and wealth in imitating the drag-queen who makes the music. In short, life is made into a nonstop, commercially prepackaged masturbational fantasy.

Ouch. Take out ‘Walkman’ and ‘MTV’ and replace them with ‘smartphone’ and ‘YouTube’, and that paragraph sounds truer today than it did in 1987.

And on that bleak note, how about some Elizabethan melancholy? John Dowland’s brilliant chromatic fantasia, Forlorn Hope Fancy: