Stanley Fish, “The Last Professor,” asks “Will the Humanities Save Us?”

Stanley Fish, a former professor of English and Law at Duke, now Davidson-Kahn Distinguished University Professor and a professor of law at Florida International University, in Miami, and frequent contributor to the editorial pages of the New York Times, has written several columns about the current state of the humanities in today’s American university system.  Three articles highlighted below segue well into this year’s symposium theme, “Two Cultures: 50 Years Later,” especially the challenges posed to the humanities in particular in today’s corporate-styled university.   The articles review recent publications addressing the crisis in the humanities, with Fish’s special spin on the topic.

In January 6, 2008 article, “Will the Humanities Save Us?”, Fish reviewed Anthony Kronman’s book, “Education’s End: Why Our Colleges and Universities Have Given Up on the Meaning of Life.”  Fish rejects Kronman’s premise that the humanities ennoble the human spirit and that this is the ultimate purpose of the humanities.  Fish counters by saying that the humanities are their own good and that there is no reason to justify their existence because justification diminishes this purpose.

In a subsequent follow-up article, “The Uses of the Humanities, Part Two,” Fish expands on this argument, in response to readers’ comments on his previous blog post.  He explains his own reasons for pursuing humanistic study, namely his delight in solving the puzzles of language and his admiration of the linguistic prowess demonstrated in literary texts.   Significantly, he distinguishes the “humanities” from works of “literature, philosophy, and history,” something that C.P. Snow failed to do in his “Two Cultures” lecture.  Snow pitted scientific inquiry against literary production, not against the study of humanistic texts.  It is the merits of the latter that Fish undertakes to articulate, merits difficult to pinpoint unless, as commenters pointed out, one highlights the importance of the humanities in cultivating critical thinking skills, which make people “more interesting and informed.”   The French hostesses of the salons of the 17th and 18th centuries would be delighted to have such skilled and intriguing interlocutors amongst their attendees.  Are we today?

This past weekend, Fish posted a review of Frank Donoghue’s new book, “The Last Professors: The Corporate University and the Fate of the Humanities.” In this article,  “The Last Professor” , Fish agrees with Donaghue, his former student, about the pessimistic chances for the humanities in the future.  Today’s corporate universities emphasize the importance of “usefulness,” of courses that deliver “the information and skills necessary to gain employment,” and pay mere lip-service to the ideals of the liberal arts education.  The humanities, in this universe, are not pragmatic or purposeful, and are thus doomed.  So, I guess the answer to this post’s titular question is, sadly, “No.”  Say it ain’t so, Stan!

Tori L.

Talking Shop

Recently I was inspired to write something compelling about my summer job, before I remembered that there is nothing compelling about it. Nonetheless I forged ahead, for when push comes to shove (usually around 3 P.M.), there is something within me bigger than myself*, something which will always drive me, against all odds, to make stuff up.

Being a summer gig, mine has lasted only 2 1/2 months, but bear in mind this is equal to 387 Customer Service years. Customer Service (motto: “Smilingly Refunding Your Befouled Froot Loops Since 1805″) is my position at a major New England grocery chain that, in the interest of artfully veiling its identity, I will refer to only as “Scarf ‘n’ Barf, the major New England grocery chain”.

Don’t get me wrong. As Customer Service, I have had the opportunity to perform numerous vital functions, such as:

1) Taking back fetid seafood,
2) Taking back REALLY fetid seafood,
3) Announcing over the speaker to various managerial beings with names like “Stan” that they have a call on “405,”
4) Directing customers to the restrooms, and
5) If restrooms are full, directing customers to the Fresh Maine Lobster tank.

I suppose one could argue that some of the exigencies involved in my job would serve as valuable exercises for those with severe antisocial tendencies. Unfortunately, these I do not have.** Not to toot my own horn, but as a 14-year-old in Florida, I trod the boards as Maisie in what was scientifically proven, in extensive laboratory tests, to be the world’s worst production of The Boy Friend***. This was before a nightly audience of 475 senior citizens bused in against their will, such that 474 were justifiably disgruntled about missing Wheel of Fortune, and the other one (Lester) was asleep.

Still, early on in my current gig, I tried to convince myself it would serve as excellent practice for more advanced theatrical endeavors down the road. Think the scene in Hamlet where Hamlet informs Stan (official title: Perishable Manager****) that he has a call on 405. But this is not how things turned out.

My job takes place behind the Customer Service Desk, which I originally thought was a sensory deprivation chamber, but it is in fact so much more. It turns out my work area is filled with the odorless, colorless Rapid Neural Degeneration Gas (RNDG), the likes of which not even the presence of an adjacent Starbucks can combat. I present my evidence in the form of this authentic transcript (sponsor: Pedigree) of my cerebral trajectory during work:

Typical thought 5 minutes into work: Of course! The definitive cure for cancer is painfully obvious! It’s (THOUGHT INTERRUPTED BY CUSTOMER WISHING TO CASH “BINGO MANIA” LOTTERY TICKET).

Typical thought 10 minutes into work: Why do customers act as if signing up for a Scarf ‘n’ Barf Rewards Card is a major milestone in their lives? Is it a major milestone in their lives? IS IT???!!!

Typical thought 15 minutes into work: Hey! That girl over there is a girl like I’M a girl!

(Curiously, my coworker, the Evil Presence, thrives in the presence of RNDG. But then the Dunkin Donuts vs. Starbucks issue is also a major source of turbulence in her weltanschauung.)

So I am eager to leave my job, and not just because it could be performed with equal finesse by — and I say this as a Loyal Member of Your Scarf ‘n’ Barf Team — the Fresh Maine Lobster. I am eager to come to Duke, and not just because of the myriad, unparalleled intellectual opportunities that await me there. These eagernesses stem from a much weightier, more intricate issue, which I shall call, for lack of a euphemism, “my Scarf ‘n’ Barf shirt”. This garment has the same general appearance and consistency as a shroud, but less sex appeal.

So, needless to say, my mental state has been such of late as to render me unable to create anything nutritive (or non-phlegm-based), but I have learned Core Values, such as The Core Value of How To Receive Your Paycheck. Also, it has given me an idea for my own grocery store, where you would never have to smile at anybody or take back anything, and could basically just be an evil bitch. I even picked out a name for it. The Evil Bitch Grocery Store.

I realize this missive has smacked of negativity, rather in the same way the Kalahari smacks of sand. So I should close by reiterating how much I am really, really looking forward to coming to Duke and meeting you. Who knows, I may even smile at you. But try and make me take back your Froot Loops. C’mon. Make me.

*It’s a chromosome. If you stretched it out it would reach to the moon.
**Or I didn’t, until I started this job. Coincidence? You decide.
***It is documented that several scientists contracted herpes merely by sitting it out through Act I.
****Nobody else thinks this is funny.

© 2007, Nicola M. (aka Customer S.)

The Cube

What I’ve noticed most about working in a cubicle is the twin feelings of claustrophobia and vulnerability.  The claustrophobia is no doubt the natural result of spending 9 hours a day in a 7’ by 7’ box chained to a computer and the beck and call of a silly program called Microsoft Entourage. The vulnerability that often characterizes both a deer caught in the headlights and the modern cubicle worker, however, is not a feeling that one would expect from such a small space. The clever architects of this very geometrical world must have known that the feeling of being watched is a strong motivating factor. Hence, a cubicle that is not quite a cube: I seem to be missing a back wall to shield me (and my activities) from the wandering eye of any passerby. And, of course, my computer is positioned at the precise angle to attract as much attention as possible.  This must be how a fish in a barrel must feel, except instead of dreading uncertain death, I only fear more paperwork, more paper cuts, and more unquenched boredom.

—Cubicle Girl