A Quote for Tuesday

"In one of the Psalms it is said of the rich man that he heaps up treasures with great toil 'and knoweth not who shall inherit them.' So I shall leave behind me, intellectually speaking, a capital by no means insignificant--and alas, I know full well who will be my heir. It is that figure so exceedingly distasteful to me, he that till now has inherited all that is best and will continue to do so: the Docent, the Professor.

Yet this is also a necessary part of my suffering--to know this and then go calmly on with my endeavor, which brings me toil and trouble and the profit of which, in one sense, the Professor will inherit. 'In one sense'--for in another sense I take it with me.

Note. And even if the 'Professor' should chance to read this, it will not give him pause, will not cause his conscience to smite him; no, this too will be made the subject of a lecture. And again this observation, if the Professor should chance to read it, will not give him pause; no, this too will be made the subject of a lecture. For longer even than the tapeworm which recently was extracted from a woman . . . even longer is the Professor, and the man in whom the Professor is lodged cannot be rid of this by any human power, only God can do it, if the man himself is willing."

Soren Kierkegaard, "A Sad Reflection," in The Journals (1850-1854), A Kierkegaard Anthology, ed. Robert Bretall (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1946), 432.

Rawls, Religion, and Identity

Kwame Anthony Appiah has a fascinating essay in the December 9 edition of The New York Review of Books. In it, he reviews A Brief Inquiry into the Meaning of Sin and Faith, a Harvard philosophy student’s senior thesis, written in 1942, that would never have merited publication if that student, John Rawls, had not gone on to write, in Appiah’s estimation, “the most influential work of liberal political philosophy of the twentieth century.”

We discover that the great liberal philosopher began the life of a mind as a religious thinker who self-consciously molded his theories on the neo-orthodoxy of Karl Barth and Reinhold Niebuhr. According to Appiah, A Brief Inquiry “is a polemic against any view in which human life is directed at some impersonal end.” Meaning is found in human relationships, which are expressions of God’s love. Although the young Rawls was interested in a categorical imperative of a much different sort, the young Rawls also sought to begin from a position of undeniable fact. But as opposed to the “original position” imperative found in A Theory of Justice (1971), the categorical imperative in the young Rawls was God: “there is a being whom Christians call God and who has revealed himself as Christ Jesus.”

Tim's Light Reading (12/2/2010)

[Updated: 9:05 am, 12/2]

1 (of 5). Piss Christ Redux: Ignorance of History as Anti-Intellectualism

Some of our Culture Wars history appears to be repeating itself---though in a weird, reverse chronological order. In a move reminiscent of debates over Serrano's 1989 Piss Christ, protests by Bill Donohue of The Catholic League, with support from new House Speaker John Boehner, caused part of an exhibit to be pulled at the Smithsonian's National Portrait Gallery a few days ago.

The purportedly offensive art, constructed in 1987 by David Wojnarowicz (right, since deceased) and titled Fire in the Belly (video link requires age verification), involves---among other graphic images---a scene where ants crawl over a crucifix. Fire in the Belly was part of an ongoing exhibit titled "Hide/Seek: Difference and Desire in American Portraiture." Donohue designated the video "hate speech" (although I'm unclear whether he found all or just parts objectionable). Here's the press release where the Gallery explains its action.

At what point in the arts does censorship become anti-intellectualism? What's the relationship? It seems clear to me that anti-intellectualism is necessary but not sufficient for censorship. As such, other factors can be involved (social norms, moral outrage, etc.). Even so, in this case I'm inclined to think it's a very important, if not primary, necessary condition. I assert this in line with commentary given two days ago by Blake Gopnik in Washington Post. Gopnik summarized the historically-uninformed nature of Donohue's opposition:

When (or is it how) do numbers matter?

I am a historian and…I think I like numbers. Is that a confession or a contradiction? Lately, I have sought refuge in public opinion polls when trying to write about public morality. Numbers are comforting in this endeavor because the idea of public morality is so conflicted and hazardous. To put it simply, when I am curious how blocks of Americans attempt to make sense of BIG issues such as war, abortion, same-sex unions, spreading democracy, the role of God in the nation's history, etc., I turn to public opinion polls to help ground me in what I think is one kind of reality. However, as social scientists will point out, the polls that I depend on are little more than snapshots of discrete moments and unless I am ready to delve into data collection and regression analysis, I am doing little more than bolstering my own qualitative conclusions. And yet, numbers do matter. Would it not be irresponsible to disregard polls when writing about debates over, say, the Vietnam War or Reagan’s policies toward the Soviet Union?

When my colleague at USIH Mike O’Connor recently noted that 58% of Americans believe that God has granted America a special role in history, what are we to make of that number? It evokes, as Mike suggests, the larger idea of American exceptionalism—that Americans believe that the United States is special among contemporary nations. And yet, when I looked at polls from 2003-2008 regarding perceptions Americans had of their country, I found multiple snapshots that created an interesting composite picture.

For example, Daniel Yankovich pointed out in 2006 essay in Foreign Affairs, that Americans illustrated the self-awareness to acknowledge “that the rest of the world sees the United States in a negative light.” According to poll data that Yankovich collected and analyzed, many Americans understood that the United States was seen as “arrogant” (74 percent), “pampered and spoiled” (73 percent), a “bully” (63 percent), and a “country to be feared” (63 percent). However, this collective view did not undermine American opinion regarding a more abstract meaning of the nation itself, which many Americans continued to see in a positive light as a “free and democratic country” (81 percent), a “country of opportunity for everyone” (80 percent), and country generous to other people (72 percent) and a strong leader (69 percent).[1] Similar findings came through in international polls, such as the 2003 National Identity study from International Social Survey Programme (ISSP): while 40.7% of Americans polled agreed very strongly that the U.S. “is better than most other countries” (which ranked the United States first out of thirty-three countries), only 12.9% of Americans agreed very strong that the United States should follow its own interests, even if this leads to conflicts with other nations. [2]

We find interesting numbers in interesting times: when I looked at polls that dealt with the Iraq War, advancing democracy by war, and the approval rating of George W. Bush, it was all downhill from 2003-2007. During that same period, though, the public opinion of the military as an institution rose. Immediately after 9/11, Bush was wildly popular. As he left office he was dismally unpopular. Such numbers make sense in light of the events they reflect. But do they say something larger?

In other words, when do these numbers tell us something about the structure of public morality? If as Ronald Beiner explains about Kant’s idea of public morality, “our actions reflect our maxims, and our maxims are not reducible to natural impulses but instead are traceable to an ultimate (and inscrutable) ‘first ground,’” do our polls reflect our maxims?[3]

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[1] Daniel Yankelovich, “The Tipping Points,” Foreign Affairs (May/June 2006), accessed at: http://www.foreignaffairs.com/20060501faessay85309/daniel-yankelovich/the-tipping-points.

[2] ISSP 2003, “National Identity,” accessed at: http://www.za.uni-koeln.de/data/en/issp/codebooks/ZA3910_cdb.pdf.

[3] Ronald Beiner, Civil Religion (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 219.

Bleg: OAH Election Ballot Question (Time Sensitive)

I'm in the midst of filling out my 2011 OAH Election Ballot. I've selected my Executive and Nominating Board candidates, but have hit a roadblock with the constitutional change issue (slate #7). There are 11 proposed changes. I think I understand all but one of the changes. The problem happens to be change #1. Here's the text (bolds mine):

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1 ▪ Article III, Section 1 — Membership

Current Wording: Last sentence: “All classes of membership are eligible to participate in the affairs of the Organization.”

Proposed Change: Delete entire sentence.

Rationale: While members can participate in the affairs of the organization, there are different levels of membership therefore different levels of participation permitted. These levels of participation are spelled out in documents related to membership benefits and since these benefit levels change periodically, they should not be included in the OAH Constitution.
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This proposed change seems too broad. My concern lies in the vagueness (or not) of the phrase "levels of participation." Levels of benefits I understand, but participation? Is the OAH contemplating the restriction of certain issues (i.e. "affairs of the organization") from the membership at large? It seems clear to me that this is a desired future option. What are these issues? Why should they be restricted from participation by all future members? It seems to me that the original sentence was purposely included in the Constitution to force the leadership team into a default democratic position. The original sentence forces the leadership, if in doubt, to present things (i.e. affairs) to the membership for at large consideration.

Finally, "levels of participation" are often determined by economics (e.g. personal and institutional). I understand that one's personal ideological investment does have some correlation with a willingness to outlay dollars. But in tough economic times that willingness is hampered by external factors.

Perhaps I'm being overly alarmist? Or maybe I'm overly sensitive (as a contingent employee) to the economics of participation?

What say you? Despite the validity and sensibility of the other ten issues, until I hear a solid argument to the contrary, I'm inclined to vote NO on the change. - TL

Chicken Little meets a Historian

I feel like I've been reading a lot of newspaper articles lately about the sky falling, our students getting stupider and lazier, technology is going to destroy the earth and our minds, etc so forth. And I think, I've read letters from two hundred years ago from professors complaining about their students being stupid and lazy. And sometimes it's just that they are 18 and sometimes it is that we are insecure and don't understand why they aren't lapping up what we have to offer and sometimes it is because we are transitioning from being responsible for a single student (me) to many students--most of whom are not meant to go to grad school and do not think like we do.

Or technology does do nasty things and great things...and has been doing so since humans realized they could start fires. But what is interesting is the specifics of what technology is up to. So for instance, there was a recent New York Times article about cell phones destroying kids' ability to think deeply because it is causing everyone to be ADD through multi-tasking. I've had some time recently to just concentrate on research and I find myself spending waaaaaay more time on Facebook than when I was teaching and administering. This is because my brain needs a rest from the writing to ponder. And sometimes I ponder staring out the window. And sometimes I ponder doing mindless things on Facebook. And when I was in grad school I would have felt immensely guilty at the "procrastination" but instead I choose to think that I've written about 30 pages based on new research in the last week and a half...while taking time off for Thanksgiving and an art project and some chicken-little like updating on facebook about how my writing is causing the sky to fall (cause externalizing the anxiety lets me go on with the writing process).

My question for you all is this--do you ever feel the same way about the over-blown nature of "sky is falling" media? How do you sort through the end-times rhetoric for things that are actually changing? How do we balance history as change and history as the same themes arising over time?