CHARLESTON, S.C. — Newt Gingrich is a historian. He earned a Ph.D. in history. If you’ve forgotten, he’ll remind you.
During a six-candidate forum in Iowa recently, Mr. Gingrich dropped in references to the Northwest Ordinance of 1787, Capt. John Smith’s leadership of Jamestown, the French Revolution and, as a bonus, the Latin root of “secular.”
A few days earlier, as guests at a fund-raising breakfast forked into slabs of coffeecake, Mr. Gingrich told a lengthy anecdote about John Quincy Adams.
And in New Hampshire before that, he referred at a Tea Party forum to the Louisiana Purchase, Thomas Jefferson’s abolition of federal judgeships and, again, the Northwest Ordinance of 1787.
Mr. Gingrich taught college history before entering politics, and his historical references on the campaign trail are such a feature of his public remarks as to be nearly a rhetorical tic. They strike some as evidence that Mr. Gingrich is the smartest candidate in the room — and others that he is a man determined to let you know how much he knows.
In an election season rife with factual misstatements, deliberate and otherwise, Mr. Gingrich sometimes seems to stand out for exhibiting an excess of knowledge. It is hard to imagine him not knowing that the Battle of Lexington and Concord took place in Massachusetts, not New Hampshire, where Representative Michele Bachmann of Minnesota located it this year.
But in some ways Mr. Gingrich seems not just to know history, but to think of himself very self-consciously as part of it, and not always in a small way. In an interview with The New York Times in 2009, he said he subscribed to the historian Arnold J. Toynbee’s theory of “departure and return,” the notion that certain great leaders must endure a long political exile before returning to power. He indicated that Charles de Gaulle, the French general who became president only after years out of power, was a role model.
“Some people say he sounds arrogant. I see it as confidence,” said Josh Byrnes, an Iowa state representative who threw his support to Mr. Gingrich after he spoke at his daughter’s school. “I think what Newt’s doing, he’s using historical lessons to take on this current situation we’re in.”
Mr. Gingrich’s deep identification with this role was highlighted recently when he said in a debate that Freddie Mac, the home mortgage giant, had hired him as a “historian,” not a lobbyist, as it fought off government regulators before the financial crisis.
When it came out that Mr. Gingrich had earned as much as $1.8 million from Freddie Mac, he was mocked by liberal critics as the best-paid historian ever.
At a forum on Monday night in Charleston, Mr. Gingrich fingered his lapel pin and said it represented George Washington’s campaign flag, with “13 stars on a gold background representing the 13 states.”
Fellow historians are generally pleased that Mr. Gingrich brings history into the national conversation, even if some dispute his insights. Last year, he said he agreed with a controversial essay linking President Obama to a “Kenyan, anti-colonial” world view. On Conservativenet, a listserv of historians, Prof. Lawrence Squeri of East Stroudsburg State wrote the other day, “I always did feel that Gingrich should have stayed in academia, conducting seminars that would make students rave or fume and send impassioned posts to the Rate My Professors Web site.”
Mr. Gingrich has been out of power since quitting Congress under pressure in 1998, but has surged in recent polls, and he is fond of citing historical crucibles to dramatize the stakes he sees for the 2012 election. In South Carolina this month, he said the country was facing a “choice comparable, I think, to 1860 and it may be comparable in some ways to 1788,” a brainy reference, apparently, to the year the Constitution was debated and ratified.
Mr. Gingrich reminded the same audience, “I studied American history” and offered a lengthy back story to the Lincoln-Douglas debates. “In 1858, Stephen Douglas was the most famous man in the United States Senate,” he began.
During a six-candidate forum in Iowa recently, Mr. Gingrich dropped in references to the Northwest Ordinance of 1787, Capt. John Smith’s leadership of Jamestown, the French Revolution and, as a bonus, the Latin root of “secular.”
A few days earlier, as guests at a fund-raising breakfast forked into slabs of coffeecake, Mr. Gingrich told a lengthy anecdote about John Quincy Adams.
And in New Hampshire before that, he referred at a Tea Party forum to the Louisiana Purchase, Thomas Jefferson’s abolition of federal judgeships and, again, the Northwest Ordinance of 1787.
Mr. Gingrich taught college history before entering politics, and his historical references on the campaign trail are such a feature of his public remarks as to be nearly a rhetorical tic. They strike some as evidence that Mr. Gingrich is the smartest candidate in the room — and others that he is a man determined to let you know how much he knows.
In an election season rife with factual misstatements, deliberate and otherwise, Mr. Gingrich sometimes seems to stand out for exhibiting an excess of knowledge. It is hard to imagine him not knowing that the Battle of Lexington and Concord took place in Massachusetts, not New Hampshire, where Representative Michele Bachmann of Minnesota located it this year.
But in some ways Mr. Gingrich seems not just to know history, but to think of himself very self-consciously as part of it, and not always in a small way. In an interview with The New York Times in 2009, he said he subscribed to the historian Arnold J. Toynbee’s theory of “departure and return,” the notion that certain great leaders must endure a long political exile before returning to power. He indicated that Charles de Gaulle, the French general who became president only after years out of power, was a role model.
“Some people say he sounds arrogant. I see it as confidence,” said Josh Byrnes, an Iowa state representative who threw his support to Mr. Gingrich after he spoke at his daughter’s school. “I think what Newt’s doing, he’s using historical lessons to take on this current situation we’re in.”
Mr. Gingrich’s deep identification with this role was highlighted recently when he said in a debate that Freddie Mac, the home mortgage giant, had hired him as a “historian,” not a lobbyist, as it fought off government regulators before the financial crisis.
When it came out that Mr. Gingrich had earned as much as $1.8 million from Freddie Mac, he was mocked by liberal critics as the best-paid historian ever.
At a forum on Monday night in Charleston, Mr. Gingrich fingered his lapel pin and said it represented George Washington’s campaign flag, with “13 stars on a gold background representing the 13 states.”
Fellow historians are generally pleased that Mr. Gingrich brings history into the national conversation, even if some dispute his insights. Last year, he said he agreed with a controversial essay linking President Obama to a “Kenyan, anti-colonial” world view. On Conservativenet, a listserv of historians, Prof. Lawrence Squeri of East Stroudsburg State wrote the other day, “I always did feel that Gingrich should have stayed in academia, conducting seminars that would make students rave or fume and send impassioned posts to the Rate My Professors Web site.”
Mr. Gingrich has been out of power since quitting Congress under pressure in 1998, but has surged in recent polls, and he is fond of citing historical crucibles to dramatize the stakes he sees for the 2012 election. In South Carolina this month, he said the country was facing a “choice comparable, I think, to 1860 and it may be comparable in some ways to 1788,” a brainy reference, apparently, to the year the Constitution was debated and ratified.
Mr. Gingrich reminded the same audience, “I studied American history” and offered a lengthy back story to the Lincoln-Douglas debates. “In 1858, Stephen Douglas was the most famous man in the United States Senate,” he began.
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