I'd like my career to be at least one of two things: fun, or meaningful. Ideally, it'd be both. And while I know that there are aspects to even the funnest and most meaningful jobs that are tedious and un-enjoyable, I don't think it's unreasonable to expect a career to have an overall net positive amount of fun and/or meaningful-ness. (Obviously many people, and perhaps myself in the future,have to work just to survive. Still, who doesn't want to have a job that offers more?)
In my last post of this series, I basically commented on the less-than-fun aspects of being a professor. But that leaves the question: is it meaning? Does it matter?
Increasingly, my answer to that question is "no." When I entered BYU's master's program I was very confident about the power of professors to shape society. They teach people, sure, but they also publish research that affects how people thing. To be honest, this aspect of the job excited me much more than teaching.
Yet as I researched, I became increasingly disillusioned with the academic publishing environment. Scholarly conferences were not only boring, but individual sessions were poorly attended. No one seemed to care. Scholarly journals weren't getting much more interesting, just because I was moving up in education status. Though I had frequently defended the relevance of humanities scholarship, by the time I was halfway through my master's degree I had completely lost faith in its ability to do anything but earn people tenure. In other words, it didn't seem to matter.
Basically, academic publishing in the humanities is, at best, a kind of trickle-down intellectualism. It supposes that there are a few experts who are qualified to explore certain topics, and that what they find will eventually (somehow) influence something. That's a really disheartening thing. It means that while most humanities scholars are politically liberal, they are among the most culturally conservative people I can think of. They are trying to conserve the past (literature, or other historic texts), and they are doing it by joining a small corps of power-holding elites. So it doesn't matter how many liberal issues they support, their career choices are literally the definition of conservatism.
Which has made me wonder: where is the populism? Where are the people who are so skeptical of power structures that they try to redistribute authority in academia?
The answer, of course, is that they're probably not academics. Or, if they are, they're exceptions to the rule. They probably don't publish as much, get denied tenure, and end up teaching at lesser institutions.
Or whatever. The point is that as I've come to see the academic publishing environment as more conservative, as well as less capable of affecting social change, I've become under-enthused about entering it.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
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I've been reading your posts on academia. You make some very good points, ones that, in theory, I agree with. I can't help but wonder, though, if you are being completely objective/honest in your portrayal. Much like you describe in the abortion post, your consistently and overly cynical arguments have only pushed me farther into the opposite camp, making me more excited about academia than I have ever been. So far, I remain unconvinced that academia is really as bad as you say it is, and wonder if what's really going on here is, dare I say it, sour grapes.
ReplyDeleteMaybe. I understand that writing this after getting rejected from a first round of PhD applications immediately makes it suspect of that.
ReplyDeleteHowever, I would add that I'm not trying to convince anyone of anything in these academia posts. I've tried to be honest about my own feelings, but I've mentioned a number of times that I have many friends entering different parts of academia who are very happy with it. Really what is "fun" and "meaningful" is a matter of personal taste. Before I finished my MA I realized that there was a lot I didn't like, so I thusly applied to only a few schools.
Because your post is anonymous, I have no idea if we've met. Perhaps you're even one of the people I've mentioned. In any case, I see your career plans as beyond the scope of these posts. (Again, by way of admission, since I do try to be argumentative in many of my blog posts I could see how this might come off as a kind of "why people shouldn't go into academia." However, I see it more as a description of why I only applied to a few prestigious schools, and why I'm unlikely to apply again.)
I'd also have to say that I was surprised to have these posts described as including "overly cynical arguments." Even if they were arguments, I'm not sure how they're overly cynical.
So, which things did you find befitting of that description? I'm also curious what about these posts has made you more excited about academia (seriously, I'd like to know). The only thing I can think of is that my tone comes off as cynical as you say, which (to some readers, including you) invalidates everything else I say. That's fair enough, of course, but I don't think my descriptions are gross misrepresentations of academia. Is there something in these posts that you see as being false? Or something that I say I dislike that you find enticing? I'm not asking these rhetorically; I'd really like to know.
you know, I just re-read this post and noticed (in addition to all my typos), that it does come off as fairly argumentative.
ReplyDeleteSo, for Mr./Ms. Anonymous up there, I'd still be interested in knowing the answers to those questions. However, I'd also say this:
I stand by the assertions I made about trickle intellectualism (admittedly a word with negative connotations). I'd challenge someone to devise a populist defense of humanities scholarly publishing. I'd argue that such a defense can't be made. Since "populism" often has a positive connotation, and "intellectualism" a negative one, this may seem like I'm saying that a defense can't be made in favor of academic publishing.
That isn't the case however. Many people make very convincing arguments for scholarship, which I find compelling to one degree or another. But I'm yet to see one that makes a viable case for humanities scholarship (as it currently exists) is meaningful in the public, non-specialized sphere. How does it get to people, other than "trickling down"? In other words, prove that scholarship isn't structurally conservative. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but it's not something that appeals to me personally.
By way of clarification, it's also worth mentioning that my opinions about the public usefulness of scholarship are shaped mostly from the work of humanities scholars. I remember, for example, when Walter Benn Michaels came to BYU campus a year or so ago. During a Q&A I asked him if he felt like his publications had any sort of impact, other than getting him a big salary. (Obviously I was already thinking about these ideas then). To my surprise, he stated that he didn't think his scholarship had any impact and the only good he'd accomplished in the world was through teaching his students. I think he was making a point with that answer (the point probably being "don't go into academia because you think your scholarship will do something, because for many people it doesn't"), but it was hearing that sort of thing, over and over again, that made me reconsider my long held ideas about scholarship (which were initially that it was really important).
Another formative experience was in English 630 (with the fabulous Dr. Dan Muhlestein), when we spent at least half the semester studying academia, scholarship, and the like. There seemed to be a couple of camps of academics that we studied: the first argued that scholarship wasn't ever going to mean much beyond a handful of specialists, and the second argued that it didn't mean much, but should. In other words, pretty much everyone recognized humanities scholarship as being what I've described as trickle down intellectualism, they only differed on whether they wanted it to change or not.
Obviously there are other opinions out there, but the point is that if that attitude is as common as it seemed to be, the humanities might not exist in the way I had conceived of them existing.
Anyway, my next post, Part 5, is on being a public intellectual and/or man of letters, which I discovered is what I was probably striving for all along. Though I wrote it at the same time as Part 4 (so before I read annoymous' comments), I think it should elucidate my attitude toward scholarly publishing.
Thanks, Jim, for taking my comments seriously. Just a few words:
ReplyDeleteFirst, I think scholarship is fun. Anyone who expects to change lives by publishing scholarly articles is in the wring field. We (and i'm including you, Jim) do it cause we like it. You're not the first person I've known to suffer from "humanities guilt." Why can't we just like reading and writing? Why do we feel like it has to have any benefit other than pleasurable intellectual stimulation? If someone wants to have more of a "real world impact" that's great--go into politics, science, medicine, journalism, the military, elementary school teaching, etc, etc, etc. But for those of us that remain in academia, lets not let our egos get carried away.
Which brings me to my next point. I found your post on teaching somewhat unpalatable. I'm sure you're a great teacher, but in general, I believe that teachers who think they have nothing to learn from students are at best ineffective and at worst, dangerous. I'm often startled by how sharp my students are. Not always, granted. But my students need to know that I'm interested in what they have to say and think, not because it can enlighten me, but because it's my job to make sure they're learning. I think, even, it's a matter of pedagogical ethics. They're not there for you; it's the other way around.
Like I said earlier, you have raised some good points. The applications are a farce; the competition is staggering; the job-market fierce; the reality publish-or-perish creates journals that nobody, not even the authors, reads; specialization, especially in large departments, is a bitch, etc, etc, etc. But what about the wicked job security? What about being surrounded by intelligent people every day? What about getting paid to read books? What about getting paid to talk about books? It's so fun, it feels like theft. Until recently you must have felt the same way.
Thank you. (If you even skimmed all that, you're the woman/man).
ReplyDeleteI did and still do love all those aspects about the job. I'm planning to end this series of posts with a "regrets" post about all the things I'll miss if I do truly decide to jump ship (if I haven't already).
But yeah, when it comes down to it, I'm just a really selfish teacher. I admit it (not facetiously either) I've found it to be so disheartening to spend so much time on something that the majority (not a vast majority, but still a majority) don't seem to care about.
My students said/say insightful things too, but the problem might be academia's specialization. By the time I've earned a BA, MA, and eventually a PhD, the kinds of things I want to talk about are just very different from what my students want to talk about.
And you're absolutely right that the teacher is there for them, not the other way around; that's one reason I'm getting out. I tired of being there for them (especially when many don't care), and I can't be a good teacher any more with that attitude.
It seems to me that we don't really disagree on the "facts" of the academic reality, just on how enjoyable they are.
Anyway, thanks.
Anonymous said,
ReplyDelete"Anyone who expects to change lives by publishing scholarly articles is in the wrong field."
I disagree. I think that the field is in the wrong. Changing lives should be the first goal of scholarly writing. To use anonymous's views on teaching to describe my views of scholarship: "it's a matter of pedagogical ethics. They're not there for you; it's the other way around." In other words, scholarly writing shouldn't just exist so that we can have fun. It should also exist so that people—even people outside of academia—can improve their lives.
Scholarship is currently self-centered, and it's the fault of no one in particular. It's how the game is played. It's "I'll scratch your back, you scratch mine" ad nauseam. But the people doing the scratching and the people being scratched are (almost) all locked away in the ivory tower, having fun.
My favorite words on the topic come from Wayne Booth's 1982 MLA presidential address. It seems that little has changed in 30 years:
“Our critical and scholarly jargons grow more recondite by the day. While there’s nothing inherently wrong in specialized vocabulary for special subjects, there is something inherently pathetic in a profession that cannot explain its work to the public at least as well as the more articulate scientists manage to explain theirs.”
“We produce more and more books and articles for fewer and fewer readers. No one can be blamed, of course for producing as fast and as much as possible, when professional survival depends on the number of titles listed. But we can all be blamed for building a world in which professional survival depends on titles listed rather than on qualities of mind and heart.”
“Simply ask, of whatever scholarship you meet or practice, ‘Will this stuff, pursued to its proper end, really liberate any mind, even my own, to critical understanding of some human achievement worth understanding?’”
John,
ReplyDeleteI was glad to hear your thoughts. You, and Booth, are absolutely right. It is a shameful truth that professional survival does depend on the number of titles published. This, is my opinion, is the ickiest part of academia.
But I think that's a separate issue from "real world good." I believe that good scholarship does indeed, like Booth said, "liberate the mind." And I suppose in this way, it does change lives. But only in a very personal/individual/spiritual sense. If a person wants to see their work having a "real" positive effect in the "real" world, a life in academia would be very unsatisfying. And not, I argue, because academia is flawed. Practical application should never be the standard we use to judge scholarship/knowledge. That smacks of utilitarianism. Neither should the "public" that Booth mentions be considered the standard to which all academia must comply: first of all because true scholarship can't exist if it is forced to accommodate to the lowest common denominator (I know that sounds harsh, but i think it's true); and second of all because the public doesn't care about our work. We just want them to care. The truth is, we read and write and teach mainly because it gives us pleasure. I don't think there's anything wrong with that.
And so, I ask, why is the term "ivory tower" always pejorative? It shouldn't be. It seems a thing that people say when they're trying to make a claim that they are better than someone else. "Joe the Plumber" does the same rhetorical work. But the truth is, there's nothing that makes Joe the plumber better or worse (more vs. less "self-centered," as you put it) than Dr. Joe PhD. It's ego rhetoric.
Anonymous,
ReplyDeleteI agree that there is a split between conceptual and practical scholarship, and I agree that the humanities is almost always better at solving conceptual problems.
I should say, though, that most fields in academia still seem interested in practical problems: medical, sociological, psychological, biological, engineering, and geographical research, to name several. So lots of people in academia are still very interested in solving real-world problems.
But you're right: the purpose of scholarship in the humanities is mostly conceptual. This is largely because the purpose of art itself is conceptual (otherwise it becomes propaganda). But this doesn't mean that the public can't understand or use conceptual solutions.
I think it's a matter of the questions we ask. Here's one: What can literary critics offer to the discussions about healthcare, foreign relations, technological advances?
Literary critics can help people understand the humanity behind these issues. It's true, literature won't give us specific answers(i.e. "Hamlet clearly tells us that America shouldn't invade other countries"), but literature can help us acquire the right attitudes.
Literary critics can join the public discussion by talking on the level of attitudes and ethics. I know that this won't satisfy many pragmatists, but it will make a difference. I'm envisioning some sort of literary sermons, a "preaching at the world to be better," as Wayne Booth said he hoped his own scholarship would accomplish. It will require us to find an ethical grounding that isn't tied to any one religion and then it will require us to preach, in newspapers, journals, and magazines, with literature as our script, for a deeper ethics.
Overall, I agree with Jon here.
ReplyDeleteI think the point Jon makes above about being able to justify the profession as well as scientists is a good one (my words, I know).
Annoymous says that the reason people go into the humanities is ultimately because they enjoy it. That may be true, but why should anyone pay people to sit around simply having fun. There has to be some relevance to the profession, or it's inherently much more selfish than someone like me searching (often futilely)for enlightenment from his/her students.
Like both of you, I don't expect literature scholars to comment directly on political debates all the time, but if the only reason professors can give for their existence is that they like books, then the public will continue to be disinterested in them, their funding will continue to evaporate, there will be fewer of them, and eventually the humanities will cease to exist in colleges (as many topics that were historically important already have).
From Kellyanne:
ReplyDeleteI'm going to throw in my two cents. I've read/skimmed most of this conversation (and Jim's previous posts), and this is what I have to say:
After my first two semesters as a PhD student, I am even more disillusioned than I was after my master's degree. There are major problems with the system, and I don't know how to go about changing it until I have become apart of it. But I still love what I do, and I think it is extremely important.
My professors here (Texas Tech) are very practical: you focus on doing the work that will get you a tenure-track job and then once that is settled you focus on doing the work that will get you tenure. Once you have tenure, you can do whatever you want. At least that is the myth they support. Everything about my program is aimed at teaching you how to become a good, professional scholar (I have a writing for publication class next semester). They freely acknowledge that we will publish to an audience of a few or perish. In other words, work the system; then make the change. But the value of academic work is in the various relationships you create with other scholars and students (at least this is what I am learning).
As I have been preparing to teach sophomore literature (I have a teaching college literature class this semester), I have thought a lot about what I want to accomplish. Teaching is never about the teacher (or it shouldn't be), especially because the teacher is rarely (if ever) appreciated or gratified for what they do. That is what teaching is. Students don't ever appreciate the time or effort it takes, but if I can get my students to think outside of themselves for even a moment, then maybe I am contributing to making them responsible citizens who will not believe every word they hear or read but will think independently about why they believe what they do. That's why I enjoy teaching, and this is what teaching literature can accomplish.
My experience at professional conferences has been very rewarding. My favorite conferences are with the groups of people (less than 50) who study something that only 50 people care about. Those groups of people are delightful, kind, generous people. They do what they do because no one else will and because they know that someday someone will recognize the value of their work. The scholarship they do is for each other, and if they make a difference, they make it among themselves.
As for political participation, I don't know how professors should participate, other than helping their students learn how to become good citizens. I like what you've said above.
So I guess I am a firm believer in helping individuals because by helping individuals I believe we eventually help society. Even if academic work is esoteric (and I have to admit my interests are), teaching is one way to hep make it matter to a larger world.