Praise for the First History of Psychohistory

Review Essays on Paul H. Elovitz, The Making of Psychohistory: Origins, Controversies, and Pioneering Contributors (New York and London: Routledge, 2018), ISBN 978-1-138-58749-6, 138 pages, paperback, $38.95, hardbound, $140.

The Making of Psychohistory is a remarkably candid, charming, and knowledgeable book about the embattled field of psychohistory by one of its key figures and one of its most important proponents. The field of psychohistory is deeply indebted to Paul Elovitz for his editing of Clio’s Psyche and his founding and convening of the Psychohistory Forum, which has been meeting four to six or more times a year since it was founded in late 1982. Psychohistory works to analyze individuals and society not only in the United States but also around the world.

Elovitz’ knowledge is voluminous and he knows where the bodies are buried. His insight into the history of the field is extraordinary and his relationship with the field for many years shines through this book. It is a wonderfully balanced book written in a very accessible style and illustrated with personal interactions and history. It is essential reading for anyone who wants to understand this crucial and complex field.

There is extensive discussion of the work of Robert Jay Lifton, Lloyd deMause, Vamik Volkan, Peter Gay, Peter Loewenberg, Rudolph Binion, and Erik Erickson, as well as briefer discussion of over one hundred other authors in the field. His knowledge is based in part on extensive interviews of distinguished scholars in Clio’s Psyche, which he founded and edits, and that many consider to be the major psychohistory journal.

Particularly touching is this description of his childhood, his gradual introduction to psychohistory, and his relationship with Sidney Halpern, as contrasted with his tangled relationship with Lloyd deMause, who had a preference for disciples rather than colleagues, and whose overbearing ways and strange theories seem to have done a great deal of harm to psychohistory. DeMause did provide a badly needed publication outlet for psychohistorians. Paul

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Elovitz’ description of his relationship to deMause is balanced, sensitive, and empathic. Ultimately, he concludes that he cannot tell whether on balance deMause did more to hurt or help psychohistory.

Professor Elovitz’ struggles to get tenure and his failure to be promoted to full professor, despite nine books and 350 publications in all, are touching and strike home for anyone involved in the psychohistory enterprise. (A university press rejected my own latest manuscript, which had references to psychohistory and psychoanalysis in it, and when I removed these and replaced these with “psychodynamic inquiry,” Palgrave was delighted to publish it, and I benefited from a brilliant editor.) What is missing from The Making of Psychohistory is a clear statement of what exactly is so off-putting about psychohistory, something that perhaps no one knows. Why so few people listened to my Harvard Professor William L. Langer’s call in his American Historical Association presidential address for psychology to be the next assignment for history, as described by Elovitz, is, in my opinion, still unknown.

Elovitz’ descriptions of his work in obtaining access in his study of Jimmy Carter, his decision not to do a book on Carter when he came to see the Georgian as a self-defeatist, and his other studies of American presidents are fascinating; a highlight of the book and a guide for presidential biographers. His analysis of the difficulties presidential historians face is worth the price of the book by itself.

A great strength of this book is its in-depth description of the personality and work of a vast number of psychohistorians, something that Paul Elovitz, from his work as editor for Clio’s Psyche, knows better than perhaps anyone. Particularly valuable are his candid and sympathetic appraisals of Rudolf Binion, Peter Gay, and Peter Loewenberg. His difficult and stressful experiences teaching psychohistory at Ramapo College are rich in detail and implication, a major contribution of the book. Elovitz’ description of his teaching after the September 11 catastrophe strikes me as particularly empathic, insightful, and helpful to other teachers. It also seems to me that his treatment of other psychohistorians is broadly knowledgeable, generous, and fair. Two books that are favorites of mine are also discussed: Jacques Szaluta’s definitive Psychohistory: Theory and Practice (1987) and David Beisel’s brilliant The Suicidal Embrace: Hitler, the Allies and the Origins of the Second World War (2003), which shows what psychohistory can do if

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done well. All told this remarkable and charming book deserves to be widely read by anyone interested in psychohistory.

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