I think Nibley kept his capital though because of two things.

1. he was counterculture. That is he attacked the same things intellectuals love to attack. That he also attacked intellectuals was mitigated by intellectuals being able to say, because of how he did it, that they weren’t the sort of intellectuals Nibley was really attacking.

2. he was mysterious. Nibley was hard to read and brings in all sorts of ideas. Contrast this with Card who tends to appeal to a kind of common sensism in his writings, especially his political ones. There’s little in his writings to cause one to think a lot to figure it out. Thus they aren’t a challenge to intellectuals who thereby find them less interesting.

OSC has used the column form (with Vigor, Meridian Magazine, the Rhino Times/his Ornery website/forums, and now Mormon Times) and adopted much of the discourse of talk radio and the op-ed pages. This has alienated many of his mainstream American fans, esp. those of the geeky-liberatarian sort.

Even more damning, he has adjusted his writing style and focus. His fiction of the past 15 years or so is markedly less literary and more transparently ideologically motivated than it was previously. His disdain for psychology and for intellectuals, for example, comes through more strongly in his later work. In addition, he has seriously toned down the “deviance” in his work.

This change can be tracked best, imo, by reading all of the Alvin Maker novels. The first three are quite different from the latter three.

Sure, although I think I’d phrase it slightly differently. Perhaps a more directly related question is, “Does the accumulation of cultural capital necessarily create room for criticism?” In other words it seems clear that cultural capital is not a sufficient factor for criticism (one can have tons of cultural capital, but be a horrible critic); but whether it’s necessary or not for effective criticism seems to be more pertinent.

In a way, it may be said that one way that one acquires cultural capital is by not being critical, or at least not appearing to be critical.

Right. I suppose one response to this is to say “no”; cultural capital, by definition, entails not being critical; and so the critic will have to look for other means by which to create space. On the other hand, and I think this is more worth exploring, one could say “yes”; cultural capital facilitates effective criticism. One could then go on to ask whether or not it is the skill set of gaining cultural capital (e.g., being diplomatic, charismatic, etc.) that allows one to be an effective critic. And/or whether cultural capital acts in such a way that one expends it in proportion to how critical one is. My sense is that it’s some of both. These individuals are good at PR (i.e., they have the skill set); and sometimes get a free pass for being critical because they’ve established their Mo-cred.

One thing that I’d like to challenge is the idea that cultural capital among Mormons translates into cultural capital on Mormonism. While we may respect greatly Orson Scott Card’s literary achievement as a Mormon using Mormon themes, this doesn’t necessarily mean that one will respect his view of Mormonism. I think that your idea of “leverage” is very useful, but in an over-leveraged economy, as we’ve seen, this leverage can backfire.

While the figures that you list have cultural capital, I actually think that it may better be described as a mixture of cultural and extra-cultural capital that mix in a mutually interdependent relationship. Just as Mormonism straddles its own culture with its cultural environment, so these figures are able to translate their extra-cultural capital into Mormon cultural capital.

I think that the exploring the contours of how cultural capital is acquired and exercised is a crucial piece to understanding the efficacy of the cultural critic. Though you’re right that cultural capital is different from economic capital, it may be spent in such a way as to increase its principal, or may be frittered away.

Further, “culture” itself is not monolithic, and the acquisition of one kind of cultural capital (scholarly expertise, for instance), may have currency with some subgroups of a culture, but not with others, perhaps even being seen as a sign of anti-cultural capital.

In a way, it may be said that one way that one acquires cultural capital is by not being critical, or at least not appearing to be critical. One excellent example of this was Mitt Romney’s much publicized attack (during commercial break) of his radio host who was trying to say that Mormons were required by their church to be pro-life. Romney, who was pro-life at the time, insisted that this was not a requirement at all, defending pro-choice Mormons. Here, Romney was able to open up a critical space for Mormons to be pro-choice, while simultaneously holding a pro-life position.

One other think that I’d like to address is that with my original post, I wanted to distinguish between famous, influential critics who have access to power, such as many of those you listed above, and regular old critics. I suppose that the way of reframing it in terms of cultural capital would be to consider how the cultural critic may acquire a certain kind of cultural capital within Mormonism without recourse to extra-cultural capital.