By Michael Dudley
In the long-standing debate over the authorship of the Shakespeare works—about which so much remains unknown and subject to speculation—there is but one reliable certainty: that those defending the attribution of the works to William of Stratford will inevitably accuse skeptics of being irrational, amateurish “conspiracy theorists”—in the same vein as Holocaust deniers, moon landing hoaxers and flat Earthers, and must not, accordingly, be allowed a venue in scholarship or the public square.
Such was very much the case with Oliver Kamm’s May 2nd, 2024 Quillette op-Ed, “The Paranoid Style in Shakespeare Denialism,” a lengthy invective against those who question the attribution of the plays and poems to the legendary gentleman from Stratford-Upon-Avon. Kamm, a UK-based journalist who used to write for The Times—but whom, it should be noted, appears to possess no particular scholarly publishing credentials concerning the study of Shakespeare—recently inserted himself into the debate by taking public exception to the venerable London Library arranging an appearance by American journalist and author Elizabeth Winkler on June 6th for a panel discussion regarding her recent book, Shakespeare was a Woman and Other Heresies (Simon and Schuster, 2023). In an open letter to the Library’s chair, Simon Godwin, Kamm condemned the event as “wildly inappropriate”, but stopped short of calling for it to be cancelled, as invitations had already been sent out. His subsequent Quillette piece (notably invoking the title of Richard Hofstadter’s classic 1964 essay “The Paranoid Style in American Politics”) turned out to be an almost perfect synthesis of the rhetoric characterizing the “Stratfordian” side of this debate—rhetoric to which, as the author of a book that makes particular study of this discourse, The Shakespeare Authorship Question and Philosophy: Knowledge, Rhetoric, Identity (Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2023), I feel compelled to respond.
As I argue in my book, partisans on the Stratfordian side have managed to dominate mainstream publishing and scholarship—and are deferred to in the major media—by virtue of their authoritative-seeming assertions, yet their claims and practices cannot withstand the scrutiny of external disinterested criteria in the form of theories of epistemology, rhetoric and historiography. The standards of evidence gathering, assessment, evaluation, and disclosure to which other scholars adhere is notably lacking in the field of Shakespeare biography, notoriously dominated as it is by biographers’ imaginations. As Stephen Greenblatt himself writes in the preface to his 2005 book Will in the World: How Shakespeare Became Shakespeare, the “gaps in [our] knowledge…make any biographical study of Shakespeare an exercise in speculation.”
While the sheer number of misleading passages in Kamm’s essay makes a line-by-line rebuttal impractical, a few corrections are in order. His repeated use of the inflammatory term “denialism” is openly offensive in that he is deliberately seeking to associate doubters rhetorically in the minds of his readers to Holocaust denial. This ties in closely with his generalization fallacy of repeatedly asserting that skepticism regarding Shakespeare’s authorship is linked to political extremism (in particular antisemitism)—supported as it is by reference to a mere three individuals—while he ignores the many reputable personages who have also engaged in this debate, including Supreme Court Justices John Paul Stevens, Antonin Scalia, and Sandra Day O’Connor, as well as figures as diverse as Orson Welles, Sigmund Freud, Henry James, Walt Whitman, and Mark Twain. If anything, it is Kamm who is the “denialist” in denying that there are grounds for doubting the attribution of the works.
He also makes a particular point of calling out author Elizabeth Winkler for supposed errors in her book but in the process makes errors of his own. He claims she recorded the wrong date for Thomas Vicars’ book Manuductio ad Artem Rhetoricam, but doesn’t clarify what that supposed incorrect date was. In any event, the book was published in several editions, but the passage in question appeared in the 1628 edition (as Winkler correctly observes) which—significantly—Kamm doesn’t actually quote, no doubt because it’s damning to his case: Vicars spoke of “that poet who takes his name from ‘shaking’ and ‘spear’” – pretty compelling evidence that at least some contemporaries recognized the name as a pseudonym. Kamm also makes far too much of Winkler’s reference on page 147 of her book to the University of London, when, technically, she should have said London University—a simple inversion that barely qualifies as a mistake, given that London University’s name changed to University College London on the very same day in 1836 it became an affiliated institution of the University of London—as if to suggest that her assertion regarding the Reverend Thomas Dale’s tenure at London University between 1828 and 1830 was erroneous, when it clearly was not.
As far as his main argument goes, Kamm is being disingenuous in asserting that the entire matter is a “long-debunked fallac[y]” or that there are no significant gaps in our knowledge, when many reputable scholars—including resolutely Stratfordian ones—acknowledge as much. Stanley Wells and Christa Jansohn, for example, observed in their 2008 essay “Current Issues in Shakespeare Biography,” that putting together Shakespeare’s life is like constructing “a jigsaw puzzle for which most of the pieces are missing.”
Despite Mr. Kamm’s objections to the contrary, the question of who wrote the Shakespeare plays and poems should be considered—all other things being equal—a perfectly legitimate object of inquiry regarding literary attribution. After all (as he surely knows) even mainstream Shakespeare scholars are now openly discussing and promoting theories of collaborative authorship; indeed, the entire premise of the 2017 New Oxford Shakespeare (co-edited by Gary Taylor and Gabriel Egan) rested on the proposition that as many as eleven other authors contributed to the Shakespeare canon, among them Christopher Marlowe.
Still, it is interesting that Kamm would begin his essay with a quote by historian Sir Lewis Namier to the effect that “history…teaches us how things do not happen,” to support his own contention that so-called “Shakespeare deniers” know nothing of the study of history, or lack an understanding of the nature of socio-political behaviour, such that they are prone to engaging in baseless fantasies about the past. Yet, I would argue, this is precisely the sentiment that does animate those of us who doubt the Stratfordian attribution: we find that the proposition that an apparently unlearned provincial businessman who spoke an extremely thick regional dialect would, solely by virtue of his innate talent, be able to transcend his intellectually-impoverished surroundings and go on to write—without any relevant life experience—the most eloquent and erudite plays and poems in the English language, only to retire in his prime so that he could return to the rustic surroundings of his birth and the company of his illiterate daughters; and to do all this without leaving any written trace of how it was accomplished, nor have it noted by anyone else—is a prime example of just that sort of historical event that we are convinced most likely did not, and, really, could not—happen.
What makes Mr. Kamm’s essay such an exemplar of Stratfordian rhetoric is that it is replete with ad hominem attacks tinged with inflammatory (and indeed defamatory) rhetoric; instances of shortcomings of his own side projected on to his opponents; and conjecture disguised as certainty. Finally, his essay evinces a very basic misunderstanding of the role of institutions such as libraries in facilitating respectful public discourse in democratic societies. Let’s consider each of these tendencies in turn.
Ad hominem Attacks and Inflammatory Rhetoric
To Kamm, skeptics and proponents of alternative authorial candidates are “deniers” and “conspiracists” whose “pressure groups” engage in “hollow and mischievous” theories which are not only akin to “the notion that the moon landings were faked or that the US government was responsible for the 9/11 attacks,” but have “a long association with political extremism on both sides of the Atlantic.” Kamm defends his comparison of authorship skepticism to Holocaust denial, because “[t]hese are both conspiracy theories devoid of evidence, and they require an abdication of the normal methods of historiographical inquiry.” Such theories, he writes, “have been given wings by the dawning of the digital age,” and against which “defenders of a liberal society” are obligated “to uphold the integrity of its intellectual methods as well as its political procedures.”
What these accusations amount to is a charge of epistemic vice, which as philosopher Ian James Kidd explains refers to poor epistemic conduct, i.e., deliberately ignoring evidence or acting in bad faith towards other knowers, as well as character, such as arrogance and dogmatism and being closed-minded. However, when one’s charge of vice is based on motivated reasoning or other non-epistemic justifications that, in itself, is an act of epistemic vice. Furthermore, when such claims invidiously accuse speakers of engaging in “conspiracy theories” this, too, is a form of epistemic vice: citing the work of Gina Husting and Martin Orr in their 2007 article, “Dangerous Machinery: Conspiracy Theory as a Transpersonal Strategy of Exclusion,” I write in my book that,
the labelling of any social or political critique as being “just a conspiracy theory” is a “pre-emption of the scholarly and investigation process” because it is universally accepted that conspiracies occur all the time (Watergate, Iran-Contra, Enron etc.), and each case requires that investigators carefully consider the available evidence. The intended purpose of the charge is therefore to pejoratively call the speaker’s character into question, while mischaracterizing their claims and equating them with other, totally unrelated or clearly absurd claims.
We should also understand that orthodox Shakespeare scholars have no particular expertise in evaluating the validity of conspiracy theories and that one of their number who does have such expertise, James F. Broderick, Professor of English and Journalism at the City University of New Jersey, found the authorship question to be legitimate. As co-author of the book Web of Conspiracy: A Guide to Conspiracy Theory Sites on the Internet, he evaluated and debunked numerous online conspiracy theories, but when he came to the authorship issue expecting to do the same, he found that it was different and became convinced of its validity. Broderick also contributed to the document “Exposing an Industry in Denial: Authorship Doubters Respond to “60 Minutes with Shakespeare” on the Shakespeare Authorship Coalition website.
However, with all due compassion towards Kamm, who lost relatives on his father’s side in the Holocaust, it must be pointed out the comparison to Holocaust denial is especially odious and indeed dangerous, as Bryan Wildenthal explains in his 2016 Thomas Jefferson School of Law Research Paper article, “Remembering Rollett and Debunking Shapiro (Again)”:
Does it not occur to these tenured “experts” just how reckless and harmful such comparisons are?…Leading academics do set a tone. Does it not occur to them how much it disrespects the victims of the worst (and best-documented) atrocity in human history? That such comparisons give aid and comfort to those who actually do deny…the reality of the Holocaust, by linking them to people with incomparably more reasonable and well- founded doubts relating to the [authorship question], including many distinguished judges, scholars, and professionals in various fields?
Projection:
The other interesting strategy we see among Stratfordians and in Kamm’s essay in particular is that many of the criticisms levelled at Shakespeare doubters are actually much more applicable to the Stratfordian side. For example, Kamm states,
[the early denialists believed] Shakespeare[] must have been more a demigod than a man….There’s a parallel with “Intelligent Design,” a pseudoscientific attempt to dress up biblical creationism in modern and technical-sounding language… evidence and reason are, for Shakespeare denialists, beside the point. Their objections are based not on evidence but on social class…[It’s an] an obviously fantastical belief…The true division…is…between those who adhere to scholarly procedure and those who reject it.
A dispassionate reading of any standard Shakespeare biography will reveal that it is the Stratford legend that is fantastical in its suppositions; that it is Stratfordians who view the “Divine” William as a “mortal god” (as Harold Bloom put it); that assertions regarding the limitless blessing of “natural genius” to overcome all possible barriers is an unfalsifiable metaphysical belief; and it is their prose that is littered with conjecture and evidence-free speculation—pseudohistorical practices that would be wholly rejected when applied to any other modern biographical subject. This is another fallacy, that of false equivalence: Biblical creationists and flat-Earthers deny scientific evidence; Shakespeare skeptics do not deny any evidence: they point to an absence of evidence supporting the traditional attribution and positive evidence supporting alternate authors.
While authorship skeptics are frequently accused of snobbery for believing the author to have been an aristocrat, this is quite untrue. Our conclusion as to the authorship isn’t based on snobbery but rather sociology: it simply strains credulity that the knowledge and skill demonstrated in the canon could have come from the pen of a man whose situation in life within a highly stratified, autocratic society offered him no possible way to acquire either. In any case, it is the leading Stratfordian scholars and pundits such as Kamm who might be more accurately accused of snobbery for believing and asserting that only they have the proper authority to weigh in on the matter.
Conjecture Disguised as Certainty
The Stratfordian case is built primarily on confident assertions that, upon examination, have little substance behind them. According to Kamm,
As for it being unnecessary to defend the authorship of Shakespeare—the real man and actor of Stratford, and not some shadowy figure behind him—the facts are already in the public domain…some empirical propositions are established facts because they have a probability so close to 100 percent as to make no practical difference…we know for a fact, and not merely as a speculative hypothesis, that the historical figure of Shakespeare was the author of the works that bear his name. The documentary record amply demonstrates it.
If all this were the case, then there would be no authorship question. Yes, it’s true that we have dozens of historical documents attesting to the existence of an individual named William Shakspere (spellings in the documents vary), and his various business and property dealings, and that he may have been an investor in the Globe and Blackfriars’ theatres. And we have the title pages on the plays, which only after 1598 bear variants of the name Shakespeare (prior to that, plays like Romeo and Juliet and Titus Andronicus were published anonymously); but it is an uncontested fact that there is not a single document from his lifetime connecting the Stratfordian to a writing career. His literary reputation was an entirely posthumous creation. Even Sir Stanley Wells, Honorary President of the Shakespeare Birthplace Trust admits this. Diana Price, in her book Shakespeare’s Unorthodox Biography, found that among his contemporaries the Stratfordian left no “paper trail” attesting to a literary career. Authorship skeptics find this exceedingly odd and inexplicable if he were, indeed, the Author.
This is why Elizabeth Winkler’s journalistic inquiry into the taboo against authorship skepticism in her book Shakespeare Was a Woman and Other Heresies is so vitally important, and quite undeserving of the vitriol Kamm heaps upon it. There are legitimate mysteries here—but, as Winkler argues, chief among them is the fierce religiosity with which the traditional attribution is defended, and the demonstrable incuriousness with which all knowledge gaps are so often dismissed by the experts.
In declaring their faith, Stratfordians all too frequently fall onto what sociologist Ilana Redstone has called The Certainty Trap: the three fallacies of believing that a question is settled such that all should agree on it; that anyone who does disagree must have ill-intent ; and that, if only dissenters had access to the same information as the believers then there would be no point of disagreement. These fallacies are compounded in Kamm’s case by an imperative to short-circuit those very liberal institutions we rely upon to mediate such disputes.
Misunderstanding the Role of Public Institutions
Kamm isn’t content with simply stating his objections to the authorship question; he wishes to eradicate it from public discourse altogether, and to do so in the name of liberalism itself:
Cultural and academic bodies should be wary of giving a platform to Shakespeare denialism, as with any other type of irrationalism, lest their names be illegitimately invoked as conveying approval… That is why it doesn’t belong in cultural institutions, the academy, the pages of serious newspapers, or the catalogues of reputable trade publishers…Serious newspapers and magazines should not touch Shakespeare denialism (the Times of London never gives it space) until such time as its proponents have paid their intellectual dues by convincing experts in the field that they have a serious contribution to make…A liberal society operates not by dogma but through inquiry and experiment.
This last point is entirely true; which is why every other sentiment in these excerpts is unjustifiable in a liberal society. If the Shakespeare Authorship Question is indeed a baseless conspiracy theory, then why should not its supposed weaknesses and fantasies be exposed to the light? As John Stuart Mill observed in On Liberty, by being exposed to contrary ideas and encountering error one’s own position can be strengthened. He adds,
He who knows only his own side of the case, knows little of that. His reasons may be good, and no one may have been able to refute them. But if he is equally unable to refute the reasons on the opposite side; if he does not so much as know what they are, he has no ground for preferring either opinion.
Speaking of Mill: despite Kamm’s declaration that it is “wildly inappropriate” for the London Library to host Winkler, what better venue is there to debate a topic like the Shakespeare authorship question than a library, especially the London Library, with its storied past that includes founding members Thomas Carlyle, Charles Dickens and Mill? It is simply illiberal of Kamm to suggest that institutions such as the academy and the news media—being both central to what Jonathan Rauch refers to as the Constitution of Knowledge—shut their doors to what should (all other things being equal) be a matter for literary attribution studies and historiography. To insist otherwise is, in fact, an act of epistemic vice, and betrays a fundamental misunderstanding of the nature and purpose of institutions that serve the public interest. It also calls into question why Qiuillette of all publications—with its reputation for championing freedom of speech—would choose to run a piece that is so openly censorious.
Conclusion
The pattern of bad faith argumentation on offer in Kamm’s essay is not unique: epistemic vice and the “Certainty Trap” are common themes running through the Stratfordian literature, whenever experts and pundits attempt to discredit those who seek to introduce open inquiry into this fascinating topic without addressing the substance of their claims. It is a phenomenon of such complex and enduring nature that I devote most of my book, The Shakespeare Authorship Question and Philosophy, to identifying its rhetorical strategies, of which Kamm’s essay is such a rich exemplar. The plain fact is that Stratfordian biographers and scholars have had the better part of two centuries to construct a coherent, compelling, and plausible biography of Shakespeare based on the historical record and they have failed to do so, for the simple reason that it is not possible. There is no there there. It is only reasonable under the circumstances to seek alternative explanations and origins for the unique brilliance in the Shakespeare canon; that such efforts should be consistently met with such invective by the academy and media figures such as Kamm is a singular phenomenon worthy of its own investigation, which is what led Winkler to write Shakespeare Was a Woman and Other Heresies and myself to pursue the epistemological and institutional dimensions in my own book.
Finally, I do find it significant that Kamm uses as his framing device Richard Hofstadter’s famous 1964 essay, as—ironically—his rhetorical style does itself bear some correspondence to Hofstadter’s “paranoid style”. After all, his essay is replete with (as Hofstadter put it) “heated exaggeration, suspiciousness, and conspiratorial fantasy” and adopts an “apocalyptic and absolutistic framework” positioning authorship skeptics as constituting a multigenerational conspiracy against liberalism and democracy itself, with whom nothing may be “mediated [or] compromised,” while Kamm (and fellow Stratfordians such as James Shapiro and Jonathan Bate) are “manning the barricades of civilization…fending off threats to a still established way of life.” Kamm clearly sees the authorship debate as “a confrontation of opposed interests which are (or are felt to be) totally irreconcilable, and thus by nature not susceptible to the normal political processes of bargain and compromise” which is why he argues dissenting scholarship should be denied the venues afforded other academic controversies. Kamm concludes,
To the extent that Shakespeare denialism is treated as a legitimate part of intellectual life, worthy of respect and serious consideration, it conflicts not only with the disinterested pursuit of knowledge but also with the ideals of a liberal society.
If we truly believe in the “disinterested pursuit of knowledge [and] the ideals of a liberal society” then we should recognize Kamm’s arguments—and those of all Stratfordians who seek to suppress this line of inquiry with such prejudice—as censorious, illiberal and contrary to the Enlightenment spirit of open inquiry.
Michael Dudley is a librarian at the University of Winnipeg. The author would like to thank John Shahan, Chairman of the Shakespeare Authorship Coalition, as well as Bonner Miller Cutting for their comments and suggestions for this article.
