 Rosenstock-Huessy then started teaching social philosophy at Dartmouth where he remained for the rest of his academic career. While the stars of former friends and associates, such as Buber and Tillich, waxed in the United States, he was largely unknown and unlistened to, except for some devoted undergraduates who taped his undergraduate lectures for posterity. He had not been completely forgotten in Germany, where his post-war lectures were well attended and his books reviewed in newspapers. While his name still crops up from time to time in European historical or sociological works (his Die Europaischen Revolutionen is something of a German minor classic in European Studies), Rosenstock-Huessy’s ideas have not received a large audience. In part, at least, this has to do with his failure to conform to conventional academic categories of classification and scholarly protocols and disciplinary requirements, in particular the theological/secular divide. In addition, there was almost no prevailing mood into which Rosenstock-Huessy’s thought seemed to tap: neither the aesthetic/literary mood of modernism (in general Rosenstock-Huessy thought art was play—and the period which spanned two world wars was not a time in which play would help stave off the next catastrophe); nor the subsequent radical student mood which Marxian-based social theories attended to (Rosenstock-Huessy thought neo-Marxists of all kinds to be a hundred years out of date); nor the psychoanalytic movement that derived from Freud or Jung (he deeply mistrusted psychiatry, believing it placed too much weight upon the ego and did not adequately grasp the collective socio-historical formations which shape it); nor phenomenology (whose dependence upon lived experience was closer in spirit to his own thought, but, nevertheless, its purview remained insufficiently dialogical and insufficiently institutional for him to see much value in it). He was also unforgiving of Heidegger (as he was of Carl Schmitt whom, before Hitler’s rise to power, he had once been on cordial terms with) and in the Soziologie, he recounts, with contempt, a story in which Elfride Heidegger talks of her husband and her having to weigh up whether they would back the Marxists or the Nazis (2009, 2, 57). The proliferation of work in linguistics, which might have seemed to have provided him with natural allies, did not help his case because he was deeply opposed to what he thought was the prevailing atomistic and unduly scientistic approach to the study of language. Mauthner and Saussure, for example, he thought were so wrong they barely warranted engaging with. And someone like C.S. Peirce, whose pragmaticism has certain affinities with Rosenstock-Huessy’s understanding of truth, also differs from Rosenstock-Huessy in his preoccupation with ‘reasonable’ and ‘objective statements’ as the road to truth. He saw himself more in the organicist tradition of Humboldt and was glad to find in R.A. Wilson’s The Miraculous Birth of Language a contemporary linguist who had reached some similar conclusions to his concerning language’s role and character in our social evolution.