Beginning around 1970 McLuhan began to be mocked as a lightweight who could not think or write. He had a major heart attack that year and throughout that last decade was in uncertain health until his debilitating stroke in 1979. Even in the preceding decade after his first serious stroke in 1960 he was obviously not himself for those family members and friends who knew him well. (This is not at all to deny that from time to time he came up for air and produced remarkable essays.)
McLuhan’s health problems necessarily turned his attention to questions of how his work might be brought to conclusion and preserved — this at a time when he lacked the energy and concentration to do this himself. But even when he had had tremendous energy before his cascade of health problems after 1960, book creation had never been his thing. His PhD thesis was not in a finished state when he submitted it and he never succeeded in bringing it to completion despite decades of work on it . Mechanical Bride went through an endless back and forth with the publisher between 1946 and its eventual publication five years later. The original Understanding Media from 1960 was a joint production of McLuhan and the NAEB. Gutenberg Galaxy was in preparation for a decade and was finally finished only with the help of a team of grad students.1
When his health problems began to get serious around 1960, he had a huge backlog of notes, manuscripts in various stages of completion, recorded conversations and even published writings belonging to largely unpublished projects. And, of course, he did not know how much time he had left — his mother had suffered a debilitating stroke in 1956, similar to his in 1960, and she had died five years later in 1961.
Although there is little evidence in the Carpenter-McLuhan correspondence, it is said that Carpenter already played a major role in the production of Understanding Media in 1962-63. Certainly that book was very different from the report McLuhan produced in 1959-60 for the NAEB which was also titled Understanding Media. Except for Culture is Our Business in 1970,2 all of McLuhan’s subsequent 8 books3 after Understanding Media (2 of which appeared posthumously) were co-productions (including the 1969 Counterblast where this is not acknowledged).
Many of these co-productions were hastily put together and contributed to, when they did not first cause, McLuhan’s precipitously declining reputation. Critics of his earlier work,4 usually as defenders of the book and print, found these 1970 and subsequent criticisms very congenial. They piled on. And this especially at the University of Toronto!
In response to this criticism and at times outright mockery, the people around McLuhan, led by his son Eric, came up with a defense strategy.5 In this presentation McLuhan was not a theoretician, much less a thinker, he was a Menippean satirist,6 a jokester, who did not intend his ‘work’ to be taken seriously (at least in an academic way). Those who mocked it had been ‘taken in’ by his professorial ‘put on’. More, such satire and joking were not only some idiosyncrasy of McLuhan as an individual, it was the hidden bond between him and much of the western tradition as a whole. Its productions, too, had either been satirical or should have been. The value of McLuhan’s ‘work’ lay in this general deconstruction. He was important and prescient after all, but as a satirist, not as a thinker or scholar.
Although there was a certain genius to this strategy, it represented a concession to the very criticism it was intended to deflect. Yes, it might true that he didn’t know how to think as a theorist, but this was because he didn’t want to, because this wasn’t his goal. All he really wanted to achieve was to trick people into the idea that he had any intention to think and theorize. As Eric McLuhan put it in his 2008 essay ‘Marshall McLuhan’s Theory of Communication: The Yegg‘: “Marshall McLuhan did not have A Theory of Communication and he did not use theories in his work.”7
This is not to deny, however, that McLuhan himself saw this satirical line of defense as helpful. He did. After all, he had long experience with the futility of the more difficult defenses of his work through an appeal to rigor or truth or uncommon insight. But there is a world of difference between the sometime use of a certain rhetorical strategy and the claim that that is all there is.
- See the series of ‘The Beginnings of Gutenberg Galaxy‘ posts, 1 to 9. ↩
- Culture is Our Business is an assemblage of ads and notes where McLuhan was helped in a major way by the McGraw-Hill editorial department — doubtless hoping for another Understanding Media sales success for the company. ↩
- Not counting The Interior Landscape from 1969 which, except for an excerpt from The Gutenberg Galaxy, is a collection of McLuhan’s essays from decades before. ↩
- Like Professor Carroll Quigley, who loudly characterized McLuhan as a charlatan. ↩
- That this strategy came first of all from McLuhan himself may be seen in his use of it in 1944 (!) in a letter to John H. Randall concerning a Bacon paper he had submitted, unsuccessfully, to the Journal of the History of Ideas: “This Bacon paper was intended as a raid, but not as a raid to set up a scholastic regime — merely a raid to upset a mass of complacent cliché. (…) The main reason for presenting this paper in its present form is not to produce conviction (…) but to get the scholarly world by its ear (…) The only kind of research which interests me is of an unconventional kind…“. See Gordon, Escape into Understanding, 116. ↩
- In connection with this theory, Eric McLuhan became an expert in the traditions of satire. See The Role of Thunder in Finnegans Wake (1997) and Cynic Satire (2015). ↩
- But in this same ‘Yegg’ essay, Eric cites Stephen Hawking specifying that we cannot do without theories: “When Stephen Hawking discusses his own theory of communication, it becomes immediately obvious that one function of a theory in the hands of a scientist is to prod reality into revealing itself: ‘we cannot distinguish what is real about the universe without a theory’, he (Hawking) writes. A good, elegant theory will describe a wide array of observations and predict the results of new ones. ‘Beyond that, it makes no sense’, he points out, ‘to ask if (a theory) corresponds to reality, because we do not know what reality is independent of a theory’ (citing Hawking, Black Holes and Baby Universes, 1993: 44).” (Yegg, 28). For further discussion, see Menippean satire 3. ↩