James Hankins is one of America’s most admired historians.
In 1985, he joined the history faculty at Harvard, where he would remain for 40 years before leaving in December of last year. Today, He is the general editor of the I Tatti Renaissance Library - a book series by Harvard University Press dedicated to republishing classic works of Italian literature. His latest book - the concluding volume of The Golden Thread: A History of the Western Tradition duology - was published earlier this year. Today, he also publishes on a Subsack of the same name.
Why did we invite him on?
James’ story instantly caught our interest. What is it that motivates an acclaimed professor, after four decades at one of the most prestigious universities in the world, to leave his position? How did it feel then? How does he feel about it now?
More broadly, we also wanted to explore James’ area of expertise: Western civilisation, with particular attention paid to Italy’s contribution. Something James felt, towards the end of his tenure at Harvard, he could no longer teach. He left to do precisely that. We were more than happy to host him.
What did we learn?
Learning about civilisation is unique among academic pursuits. As you learn, you become part of it. It’s not merely a detached assessment of what’s come before; in the act of educating oneself, they become an active participant. By learning about the cerebral tools of Western civilisation, we are imbued with them. It demands we rise to the occasion.
This, James asserts, has long been forgotten.
”This strikes me as a mistake of modern, humanist studies: it’s so important to communicate in our world, and at a very high level. It’s how you become a civilised person. Not just good manners, but intuitions, poetic insights, sublimity… These [skills] can only be developed in a civilisation. You’re not just a citizen - you’re a member of the society, and you interact with it in a profound and subtle way.”
These are not inborn abilities. The most elevated forms of art - in theatre, sculpture, music, and literature - are only fully understood when we’re taught how. What to look out for, which parts to admire.
Many of the universities pride themselves on taking a strictly “critical” approach; rigorous scepticism that undresses and assesses the inherited knowledge of past eras. It sounds good, but is it? Perhaps the best way to learn about - and respect - the great works and achievements of a civilisation is from someone who actually does.
”It’s not automatic that people will understand classical music. It’s an acquired taste, and to acquire it you have to be brought up and educated in that. You have to have people who communicate their love of it to you, teachers who are enthusiasts. If you want to understand Western civilisation - Michaelangelo, Beethoven, Dante - you need the skills to do so.”
If this is such an important process, why did James take himself out of it?
In 2025, after 40 years of teaching, James retired from Harvard University. There were a myriad of reasons, but central to his motivation was the university’s intensifying unwillingness to allow his position to be heard. He only left last year, but the decision had been brewing for some time.
”I decided to retire in 2020; the year of George Floyd, the year of COVID. I just didn’t want to do it anymore. They created such a terrible atmosphere. They wanted us to do lectures with masks on, which I refused to do … I was also banging my head against the wall trying to get the university to continue teaching the history of Western civilisation. That was a mainstay for decades, but my department [wanted to get rid of it]. It was evident to me that someone had made a decision to zero out ‘Western Civ’.”
What remained of James’ freedom to teach was not what he hoped for. As years went by, James increasingly found he was discouraged from exploring the majestic elements of Western civilisation, or even a balanced approach. He could only teach the dark underbelly - the shameful, immoral components of our past.
”You could teach the French empire and all its evils, but you couldn’t teach the Revolution. You could teach about the English monarchy and the colonies, but not the Magna Carta.”
It invites the question: why?
