One approach that is rooted primarily in the digital humanities is to remodel humanistic activity on the model of scientific groups and grants. I have no problem with learning from the sciences especially from their practices of collaborative groups. But the fetish for "grand challenges" while understandable from a tactical fundraising perspective ignores important parts of the purpose of the humanities and interpretive social sciences--particularly their relationships to ethics in the process of scholarship.
What I think is a far more interesting and challenging idea was raised by Eileen Joy in a post at the Medieval Studies blog In the Middle.
Joy's starting point, to be clear, is a diagnosis of a bleak future. As she puts it:
The university as a publicly-supported institution [in all of it various forms, from the Ivy League school to the community college] has long served as a critical site for some of the most important humanistic-scientific-technological-etc. innovations in human history, while it has also fostered the value and practice of lifelong learning, of critical thought, of experimentation, of open and perpetually unsettled inquiry, to what might be called the arts of everyday life. And I don't believe this institution is just going to disappear in some sort of cataclysm, although I would place my money on some severe, austere diminishments in the near future.
Joy's account of this likely "severe" and "austere" diminution is familiar: MOOCs, reduction in public financing, worsening working condition for faculty--especially non-tenure track faculty--loss of control over our work through increasing corporate control of intellectual products, etc.
In response, Joy proposes a greater attention to those spaces outside of the university where intellectually creativity flourishes:
The fact of the matter is -- whether we inhabit student desks, tenure lines, adjunct positions, or post-graduate/never-graduate somewhere-other-than-here positions -- now might be the time to take a bit more seriously alternative spaces [which might never be "permanent" or "institutional"] for learning, for inquiry, and for knowledge-culture production.
But at the same time as she advocates this dispersive set of spaces, she also suggests something that cuts in a different direction. Against the generalized, if true, claim that we develop communicative and analytic skills, Joy calls attention to the specificity of the fields that we engage in:
At the same time, we insist on perversely-hopefully laying claim to specific subject areas -- medieval studies, for example -- as collocations of objects and trajectories of thought that we desire to hold close to us, while also placing them in certain perpetual tensions with everything else [even ourselves]. Forms of thinking matter, and there is no need to discard anything. Every area requires special curators and we should seek to increase the ranks of those, for this is a matter of the care as well as of the increase of knowledge.
"Curating" is, of course, a complex term. It harks back to churches and curates; it has an unavoidable ring of the spiritual. But in this context, and despite Joy's training as a medievalist, I take its reference to be to the curating that takes place in museums and libraries as well as congregations. Although Joy's post mostly emphasizes the creation of new spaces outside the university (like Punctum Books for instance) it seems to me that curating may be a way to rethink our practices within universities and colleges and also a way to think about the relationships between what we do in our institutions and what we might do outside our institutions.
Two preliminary points are crucial here: first is the acknowledgment that we are drawn to particular areas because of the issues or ideas embedded there (and not because it would make us good readers or contextualizers) and the second that the knowledge that we produce is itself worth defending because of the insights it brings to the world. The humanities cannot survive as a simple set of capacities; it must defend its claims to knowledge and to think through the dimensions of that knowledge and its production.
As Joy notes, we tend--despite whatever commitments to method or theory we have--to take our specific research subjects seriously and personally. To actually curate our fields today, though, means doing more than simply teaching or writing about them. Despite (or perhaps because of) the growth of digital capacity, the basic infrastructure of humanistic knowledge is being dissected: libraries cannot buy enough new books, journals and university presses are under intense financial pressure (and UC's open access policy will not help here), departments are being closed, fewer and fewer faculty are being hired on the tenure track.
All of this is well known of course.
But if faculty in the humanities and social sciences do not take more collective responsibility for the institutions that make our scholarship and teaching possible and work in solidarity with institutions or other departments then our students will find themselves without a sustainable field to work in. We need to acknowledge the centrality of the sustainability of the humanities infrastructure and of the crucial task of the university as a place for conserving knowledge as well as producing it. At the same time we need to recognize the importance of the traditions of thought and practice in our various areas. Joy's notion of "trajectories of thought that we desire to hold close to us" is important here: we cannot succeed by turning away from what drew us to the humanities or interpretive social sciences in the first place. And we need to articulate the meanings of those trajectories in their "untimeliness" today.
We can probably all agree on the importance of protecting resources for humanities research. But the question of curating people is more complicated. But I think that implicit in Joy's formulation is the notion that faculty will need to intensify their relationship with teaching, training, and developing students and not because our employers want a speed-up. Faculty in many fields in the humanities and social sciences (and probably in the sciences as well although I am less sure) have benefited in many ways from the lack of system in programs. But if we are going to find new ways to manifest the importance of humanities and social science knowledge we need to move beyond the consumerist model of course choice and begin to think about how to design programs. Moreover, faculty at many research universities will need to assume more responsibility for advising.
To be sure, a great deal of faculty advising does take place. At liberal arts colleges faculty are deeply involved with advising undergraduates and at research universities they are involved in advising graduate students. But there is a large lacuna there: undergraduates at large research institutions. In these situations students are left to overworked staff advisers. In those settings (like UC) faculty will need to take more responsibility for the intellectual development of their students both undergraduate and graduate. Disciplines in the humanities and social sciences often claim that their teaching and knowledge is designed for transformation; but without figuring out ways to make that part of the intellectual process of education it rings false.
If we are going to curate both objects and subjects we need to also recognize the personal dimension of our commitments. We teach and write about them because we think that it is important that they be preserved and extended in some way. But we do so because we find them personally engaging and challenging. But insofar as we claim that our knowledge can be transforming, we might give more thought to how, and if, it is transforming ourselves. One way, as I already suggested, is in taking greater responsibility for the conduct of our programs as they relate to students. But another is taking greater responsibility for our conduct as it relates to the larger project that the humanities and social sciences engage in. But that means, I think, making a collective project that links our commitments to our own specific subjects (and our commitment to curate them) to a larger project within universities to protect the wider range of humanities and social science scholarship.
The structure of the university and college now is such as to pit department against department and division against division. But it is not hard to see that the struggle between departments, or the willingness of some to place their own self-interest against a more collective project will, no matter how successful in the short run end up weakening the entire range of scholarship. And in a scholarly world where disciplines and subjects depend more and more on the knowledge of others this end will benefit no one.
Finally I think we might take some lessons from museums and libraries because it is in those latter spaces that curators and librarians aim to develop public knowledge. For in curating you not only preserve but you present. Let me give one example of the interplay between curating, knowledge, universities, and museums. It is not singular (scholars work with museums all the time). But it does offer an alternative to the now obligatory emphasis on the digital as the way to touch the wider world. This fall, the New York Historical Society opened an exhibit honoring the centennial of New York's Armory Show of 1913. The exhibit took up the issue of the relationship between art, society, and politics. Central to the success of the show was the work of a historian (Casey Blake of Columbia) in tandem with art scholars, museum curators, planners, artists and the Historical Society leadership. These sorts of exhibits raise dual challenges. The first was actually producing the knowledge needed to help stage the exhibition and the second was figuring out how to convey that knowledge in ways that would engage the audience. Now I understand that curators are faced with this all the time. Indeed, in our classrooms so are we. But these were designed to bring the work of university research to bear on an issue of public memory and interest. And there is no shortage of people who are interested in these issues.
Just as important though, is the fact that exhibits like this are self-consciously about both producing knowledge and preserving subjects and objects. Any effective defense of the Humanities will have to begin with the same self-consciousness and the same ends.
We have not met, Michael, but I have been reading this blog regularly for quite a while now, and also cite it in my Introduction, "Hands Off Our Jouissance," to Aranye Fradenburg's new book, "Staying Alive: A Survival Manual for the Liberal Arts":
ReplyDeletehttps://www.academia.edu/4801461/Hands_Off_Our_Jouissance_The_Collaborative_Risk_of_a_Shared_Disorganzation
I just want to add a note here to thank you for implicitly [and explicitly] getting exactly part of the mission of the BABEL Working Group [which houses punctum books]: it is exactly, in addition to its various advocacy projects for the heterotopic humanities/the public multi-versity, focused on the curatorship, the "care," of individuals, their projects, their desires, etc. and figuring out ways that all of us can thrive together within and outside of the Academy proper, even when our specific research and other trajectories are quite different and even in dissenual conflict [ideas-wise, methodology-wise, subject area-wise, etc.]. Dissensus is important, because it helps move ideas/thinking forward, but the traditional competetive agon where everyone pitches their research, and methods, against each other in a kind of survivalist/triumphalist scholarship is a disaster in the making, and also a tragedy. We need a framework of solidarity within the University and what we call the para-academy--it might be something like we all agree to defend each other's right to read, think, write, publish, and disseminate (our)selves. This requires, in Foucault's idiom, not "know thyself," but "take care of yourself" -- the university as where we take care of ourselves in order to also be able to take care of others, and more largely, the polis, one that would be unbounded, where there would be distinct "places," but no boundaries or checkpoints, and in a sort of radical cosmopolitanism, everyone would be a citizen of the "city" of the university, no matter where they are.
I'm so happy you picked up on the idea of curatorship because my dissertation was actually an intellectual history of how one specific object (MS Cotton Vitellius A.vx: the so-called Beowulf manuscript] moved from private library to private library to storage to museum to electronic codex [from the 16th through 21st centuries]. I am very much of the mind that the university library is a really important site for rebooting, not just the university, but research and publishing as the "making of publics," and the more, the better. The university is one of the last guarantors, in my mind, of the public commons, and I think libraries should seize the opportunity right now to reboot something like the Alexandrian Library, as both hive of scholarship and also archive/memory. I've written more about that here:
http://www.inthemedievalmiddle.com/2013/11/a-time-for-radical-hope-freedom.html
In any case, thank you for engaging with my thinking on these matters and for your further provocations to thought.
@Eileen Joy
ReplyDeleteThanks for your comments and ideas. Yes, I was definitely thinking in Foucaultian terms about the care of self and others. I think we need to extend that care to forms of knowledge and institutions as well.
I also think that a good deal of this is already happening. There are obvious cases like the networks that you and your colleagues have set up. But it also occurs in the contributions that people make to the journals and presses in their fields as readers, or editors, or on editorial boards. Part of the problem is making this more than service and also in thinking it in connection with the fates of those venues and not just as "professional duties."
One thing that I probably should have stressed is that all of this indicates that we need more rather than less faculty with the time and security to do this. This is one of the great questions that need to be pushed back at the politicians and "reformers." who seem to think that we can operate with fewer faculty because of technology. But if what we care about is a better educated and more capable citizenry then we will need to expand not contract the sort of care and curating we are discussing. California politicians are among the worst when it comes to this (and Chris and I will have some more to say about that soon I suspect) but it is a national problem. Faculty time is not a "cost disease." It is an educational and scholarly opportunity.
@Michael Meranze:
ReplyDeleteagreed and agreed! My co-editor Myra Seaman and I, at postmedieval [which is published by BABEL + Palgrave] have been engaging in more and more transparent/open [online/crowd] review processes, and we recently were given the suggestion from a group of really interesting folk at UWisconsin caled Hybrid Pedagogy [you can follow them on Twitter] to start publishing bylines for reviewers of articles we accept. It's a great idea, I think, though it meets with some resistance of course from some of my Board members and associates [yet I plan to try mightily to make it happen]. Basically, the 2-3 readers who help review and ultimately help, openly, to guide the writing to its better version, would have their names published below the author's name as the reviewers, thus sharing credit for the article and making more visible the labors of reviewing/curating. As a publisher and editor, I want to insist more and more that we make more visible the collaborative nature of our work: this isn't just about getting more "credit" for what we do, and claiming value for it; it's also about building stronger networks that can then push back against the technocrats who want to eliminate us.