Inside Higher Ed asks, apparently in all seriousness, “Inclusivity or Tokenism?”
Not much on nuance—and saddled with the disturbing habit of recognizing a rhetorical question when we see one—we classical liberals are revoltingly cocksure in our assertion that demanding a woman appear in a panel discussion as a condition of accepting the validity of the historical scholarship at issue, is rather clearly tokenism, and trivializes women scholars as “diversity” place fillers.
Whereas to Inside Higher Ed, this is a troubling question of some semantic import.
Of course, we classical libs also find suspending someone for advocating second amendment rights remarkably anti-intellectual and a certain violation of the spirit of free inquiry universities are supposed to foster—but then, it’s precisely that kind of antiquated bourgeois thinking that keeps us off the cocktail party circuit.
Well, that, and our refusal to accept man clogs as “hip.”
(h/t Robert Schwartz)
A famous German Joyce scholar came to speak when I was at the UVA, and my wife, then my girlfriend, a great Joycean, went to hear him. Afterwards, she called me to come join them. I showed up at the pizza parlor where they were well into their cups, and the famous (60ish) German began sulking, because he realized that he wasn’t going to get laid (sulking included ignoring the earnest questions of the students who’d come out to hang with him).
It took me a bit to catch on, but when I did, I turned to John Kidd, then a Mellon Fellow, and said: “What’s his problem?”
He said: “He’s a European scholar. In the movies, they always get laid by American girls who are bowled over by their intellect. Why are you being so mean about it?”
“Because I’m the American guy with the gun in my pocket who blows his head off, John.”
Needless to say, John was appalled.
I just re-read Dorothy Sayers’ “Gaudy Night”. The Dons at her fictional Shrewsbury College would have been outraged at being treated as mere tokens. As, I suppose, Miss Sayers would. It seems that academia hasn’t changed much. Just treating a scholar as a scholar judged on the work or on the teaching is too much work for the PC types. It is easier, after all, to merely place people in various slots and judge them not on what they do, what they produce, what character they have.
Academia appears to have taken on the guise of an early twentieth century assembly line: you lift wheels; you bolt engines in place; you apply paint; and the devil take you if you suggest anything different.
TW: going42. I hope they join this century before that year.
Dan – that scholar should be so grateful to you! You gave him a story he can dine out on for months, and the subject of so many essays on the hostility of the American towards great literature.
And I bet you have been the subject of papers for ten years at least! Good work!
My attitude was pretty much, WTF? I’ve been able to deal with not getting my rocks off this particular evening ever since I was 19. What’s your fucking deal, man? All these people bought you wine and pizza, and you’re going to sulk?
Does this mean that all those Womyn’s Studies confabs have to include the EVILE gender as well?
Or Bebe Netanyahu on all those “Israel Is Just the Worst” Middle Eastern Studies torture sessions?
Or the ghost of Cap Weinberger on the Carter Center preach-ins on how Jimmah was just the best?
We could keep this up all night.
There are a multitude of reasons that I left academia and the ability of that group of people to kill entire forests to debate crap like this in sonorous tones is one of them.
Also, stop staring at my girlfriend’s rack, if you would, while people are asking you questions about “Lestrygonians”!
What??? I bought my first pair of clogs at Georgetown Leather in 1979, and I can assure you they led to many a night of bliss in the arms of M-Street prowling vixens.
Would be a good name for a rock band, if there were still rock bands.
Still, bains, the actual purchase of clogs is not something I’d admit to.
Kind of like when I was young and incredibly stupid, I thought Ted Kennedy rocked.
No, just the ghost of James Watt and his infamous quote.
When he’s had a few.
After he’s had a few more, he falls over.
Jeff is just another typical freightwinger. Its all about the clogs. Yeah, taking down the MSM. Clogroll. Did you read my clog? Blah blah blah.
Seriously, I am SO up to here with clogs. It’s like Hugh Hewitt discovered the damn things.
Roseanne Roseannadanna
Speaking of leather, bains, did you ever happen to wander into the Pleasure Chest? They have all sorts of interesting leather items. Or so I’m told.
Well wishbone, I am a proud owner of three sets these days, in addition to some birkenstocks sandals. Then it was hip, now its a matter of comfort and practicality. When conditions dictate however, (and in this CO mountain community often times they do) out come the Redwings or Sorels… or Chicos.
estaban,
I rather liked that.
Hey Dan, I got to know Kidd pretty well when I worked at Boston University and developed an interest in Joyce. I have an idea who the German Scholar might be, and that would make the story even funnier.
Shame how Kidd lost his mind later, though. (That was after I left BU, so I didn’t actually see it happen.) I guess he talks to worms now or something.
I kinda like his idea of having all the panelists go in drag. I’d have ‘em speak in falsetto, just to sledge-hammer home the point.
— only works if she has a rack like the collected series DVD of “Stacked”…
OMG. That reminds me of a video I saw last Sunday on the America’s Funniest Videos $100,000 finals.* There was this toddler who, when his parents poked their heads in his room at night and told him to go asleep, he’d shriek like a banshee and pitch a fit.
When a stranger did the same, he’d collapse down in his crib as if he’d had narcolepsy.
So the dad put on a wig and told him to go to bed in a falsetto voice, and the kid plopped down obediently.
Caught it all with infrared, too. They didn’t win. A kid who smeared Desitin on his kid brother’s face did.
Hey, Dr. Forrester and Dr. Erhart from MST3K write for it. It’s not bad if you ignore the crotch shots.
TW: personal69. Not touching it…
Is this the same bains who took me to task for saying my Carhart had a breast pocket?
My Carhart doesn’t have a breast pocket, but strangely enough, it tastes just like chicken.
No idea what that means.
Wife and kid just went off to Utah to visit Grandma. First time I’ve been without my boy since he was born. Not handing it all too well.
Or so say the books that would make a crime to drink shots of Bushmills at 5:30 AM.
The German scholar was Fritz Senn, Farmer Joe. I’m sorry to hear that about John. He was a good friend of Holly Laird, and a nice enough, if obnoxious and capricious, guy.
I found this on John: http://davidabel4.blogspot.com/
The German scholar was Fritz Senn, Farmer Joe.
Ah, Okay. I thought it might have been someone else.
Dan, that article was one the I read when I moved back to Boston and was trying to find out what had become of him. Sad. No idea where he is now.
I turned around and my 13 year old is taller than his mother and he now knows I’m not the smartest guy in the world.
I get your point, there are more important things than farmy jacket pocket terminology. I’ll let it go.
Mikey NTH,
Ooo, I just wish Ms. Sayers were around these days. What a scholar – learned 14th century Florentine Italian just because there wasn’t a good translation of Dante’s Divine Comedy, and, as a result, gave the world a landmark piece of scholarship both in translation and in notes.
Today’s PC crowd would likely dismiss her as not a valid woman, because (1) she was a Christian, (2) she was a real scholar, and (3) she did not suffer fools gladly.
Jeff,
Thanks for your occasional comments about the Mrs. and the bairn. It give the warm fuzzies to those of us without. Some of us even pray for you. (And if you want to pray for me, that would be very welcome! I need it.)
T&T
YOu just kick back, enjoy the brief man time that this change brings, and catch up on your Johhny and the Sprites episodes. Ah, the bachelor life.
Yea you will now be the dunbest person on the planet until he moves out and starts paying his own bills. Then, you will be a genius again.
I dealt with this stage with fear and intimidation.
aaaaaaaw. does Grandma not like you? just kidding. hey, know who else is in Utah starting this weekend? RTO. for school.
My wife wanted to give me a little time away from the kid, but it turns out I’ll be spending it in excruciating pain, thanks to a pulled muscle in my back that just this morning made a SOUND.
Muscles aren’t supposed to do that.
I blame Bush.
I do for everything. It’s easier that way. Anyhow, hope the back gets better quickly. I have two beautiful little girls and have been fortunate enough to never have been away from them for more than a night. Good luck with that too. I know I’d miss my girls plenty.
At the risk of going off topic, Jeff (or anyone for that matter), have you ever had a Glenfarclas, Longmorn or Royal Lochnager SMS? Just wanted to get your thoughts. Thanks.
TW: poor78
Yes, my new taste for the single malt is indeed making me poor.
And I will follow suit with that tried and true method.
Oh, and I like to sprinkle in a little humiliation to cut the sweetness.
hey, know who else is in Utah starting this weekend? RTO. for school.
Crap, I’m in Utah all the time, and no one comes to visit me.
Not that I can receive guests, what with the guest room being occupied by a huge bean-bag chair that the neighbor’s cat peed in three times and is now (1) unusable (2) unsellable.
Where in Utah, Jeff?
TW: back75. No kidding.
Is it (3) unburnable?
Sad thing about a beanbag chair is, you can’t even use it as a backstop for target practice, since the dang thing has the bullet-stopping capability of a sheet of soggy paper.
Dicentra—
In Ogden. I visited for Thanksgiving a couple years back. Seemed a nice enough place.
Polish–
Glenfarclas is nice—mild, smooth. A bit pricey, so I drink it sparingly.