Fetishes

I am fascinated with the concept of the fetish. According to Dictionary.com, the word has, in its simplest forms, three definitions; a fetish is either (a) “an object regarded with awe as being the embodiment or habitation of a potent spirit or as having magical potency; or (b) any object, idea, etc., eliciting unquestioning reverence, respect, or devotion: to make a fetish of high grades; or (c) any object or nongenital part of the body that causes a habitual erotic response or fixation.”

What fascinates me is that the fetish is a nexus point, an intersection of desire, separation, and obsessive compulsive attention.  A fetish is often a small part of a larger whole and that part is invested with a disproportionate significance of something else.  This “something else” then becomes the object of either a distorted desire or an unhealthy fixation.

Those who make a fetish out of money, for example, often confuse monetary value with an overall self-image of “worth” or successful living. Acquisition of the money-object, in effect, becomes a horribly unhealthy pursuit of one small part of a whole (the entire economic realm) and this desired “part” comes to signify something else altogether: selfhood.  I am rich therefore I am “worth” something.  The fetishist thus devolves into an abject subject caught within a grotesque cycle of desire and anxiety. Norman Bates from Hitchcock’s Psycho is perhaps one of the more well known sad fetishists.

But I digress.  The question that prompts this little meditation on grotesque desire is this: to what extent has the North American academy become abject?  To what extent does it fetishize either research or teaching or service?  These three traditional pillars of academic labour seem to have drifted apart over the past few decades and now, in some quarters, only one of the three becomes the object of desire. In an odd mimicry the academy has become a marketplace of individualistic acquisition where members of the Collegium are positioned EITHER to overvalue research (or more specifically research income); OR good teaching is deemed good teaching only if it receives an award; OR service is fixated upon to the exclusion of the other two pillars. 

I exaggerate, of course.  But my point, I think, is solid.  The North American academy has strayed from its original path of educating responsible citizens and in some cases the academy has been transformed into an acquisitive economy of pathetic desires. Only one part of the job has become invested with a disproportionate meaning which is then overvalued or fixated upon. This is not a good thing.

At Trent, at this time, we have the opportunity in the academic planning process to reconstruct ourselves, to “do better by our students” as a wise young philosopher said to me today. We have the chance to sidestep the sick allure of the fetish and regain our balance. We have the chance to remind ourselves and the rest of the academy that we remain “Canada’s outstanding small university” where we still value excellent teaching, solid research, and academic citizenry.

Sobriety

I once travelled to Wuhan where I visited one of the many wondrous universities of China. I was given a tour of a relatively spartan residence where the rooms were very small and amenities were of the minimalist kind. I joked that one wouldn't want to have a party in such a tiny room. My host, with great restraint, looked me dead in the eye and said courteously, "But students don't come here to have fun. They come here to work". A sobering moment.

I once read Maclean's magazine (in May 2011) where the current Ontario Minister of Training, Colleges, and Universities, John Milloy, is quoted as saying: "Putting Students First, is a response to a single goal of Ontario families that can be summarized as: “I want my kids to go on in school and get a good job.”. Another sobering moment.

I once asked a Trent alumna (who is very well employed) to tell me what she valued most about her time at Trent. Her answer was the transformational experiences she had while living and learning in one of the Colleges. She recalled particularly one professor who regularly met with students outside of class hours, usually over food and beverages, and would argue, discuss and debate long into the wee hours of the night. Sobering in its way.

Ah. But am I beginning to indulge myself in the very nostalgia I decry? Or am I articulating one of the critical pivots of the academic planning exercise?

One of the many challenges we face in developing an academic plan for Trent is the imperative of addressing exactly what kind of institution we want to be. Equally important is the necessity to examine how feasible our desires may be in the contexts of the 21st century university and the realpolitik of offering a postsecondary education--and a postsecondary venue--that is both transformational and marketable. Fun as well as "useful". To do this we need change.

Certainly we have seen a shift in the kinds of graduate degrees being offered south of the border. Now one can opt for the "professional doctorate" or the "professional Masters" which are essentially course based graduate degrees without the necessity to produce an original contribution to knowledge known as the dissertation. Likewise, we have seen a shift toward more job-oriented universities such as UOIT here in Ontario whose Act clearly states their responsibility to offer market driven programming. Recent stats have similarly shown a marked increase in applications to applied science programs. Even the Council of Ontario Universities has launched a website devoted to the pragmatic: myeducationhasvalue.ca (which folks should check out).

But whither curiosity based research? Whither critical inquiry that may not always be politically popular?

All of which is a preamble to the burning question: is Trent's original mandate--to provide a solid education in the liberal arts and sciences--still viable? Or have we reached a turning point where we must change our mandate? Do we wish to resist curricular change, programming change, pedagogical change, or do we wish to embrace change? Are we in fact wedded to the past (to our detriment) as some colleagues feel? Must "a view to the future" categorically exclude the past? Is the choice so clearly either/or?

These are the questions we are asking ourselves. The challenges are enormous. But the consequences of not asking them are unthinkable. A very sobering moment indeed.

(Re) Signing the liberal arts and sciences

It's a sobering moment when the world changes around you and you suddenly realize you hadn't even noticed. Suddenly you are passé. I still remember my Dad's face when I played Hendrix on volume 500 for the first time; bye bye blackbird. I'm sure my oldest son remembers my face when he played Motörhead for me at volume 1000. Bye bye Stones. Suddenly one's cherished harmonies seem irrelevant or, at best, strangely quaint. Passé.

As the Provost of a brilliant University renowned for its liberal arts and science programs, its commitment to social justice, its proud traditions of activism and engagement, it's been a sobering few days. We've read announcements that York has a first year cohort of 6100 students, due to more applications in the university's health, science, and applied science programs; that Nipissing has experienced a 26% increase in part time studies and in new programs in science, math, technology and commerce. In addition, both federal and provincial governments have provided material support for the STEM disciplines (science, technology, engineering, and math), as well as Business and commerce.

Have we suddenly become quaint, mildly outdated, strangely cute, like a bewildered old uncle, in our insistence on the value of a liberal university education? Have we become passé? I think NOT.

The apparent "change" in the post-secondary landscape has elicited an intriguing dialectic between those who trumpet the arrival of a new pragmatism amongst students (can I get a job with that?) and those who traipse out the by-now tired arguments about safeguarding civilization against the barbarian hordes. What interests me in this binarism is (a) the seductive allure of a utilitarian defence of the liberal arts and sciences (these are critical disciplines, we bleat, that teach students how to think critically, analyze, make connections and so on); (b) the risible assumption that today's students are totally market driven; and finally, (c) the bovine notion that science, technology, engineering, math, health sciences, professional programs, business, and commerce are somehow devoid of imagination, elegance, and wonder. These rigorous disciplines are, apparently, merely pragmatic preparations for an interview. Right. Tell that to Asaf Zohar.

What intrigues me in all of this discourse is the official desire for purity, the unspoken authoritarian need for disciplinary tidiness. Somehow the "hard" subjects seem better because they are pragmatic and utilitarian; the "soft" subjects seem useless and irrelevant to the real world of the marketplace. What a paltry vision of both the world and the human mind.

What interests me (and buoys me up) is the fact that the liberal arts and sciences were long ago re-signed (i.e.,"re-signatured") at Trent. Whether it's Chemistry or Philosophy, Business or International Development Studies, Indigenous Studies or Physics, these disciplines at Trent all embody a creative messiness, a delicious ragged-edginess of interdisciplinarity, of critical inquiry that crosses lines and troubles pundits. Maybe it's time we point this out in our advertising; maybe we need to be less shy about blowing our own horns. But the simple fact is that at Trent the liberal arts and sciences, as well as the professional programs, educate our people, not only in order to get jobs, but more importantly n order to wonder and to ask "why?". We're not an either/or sort of institution. We're more the both/and type.

Whatever shape our academic plan takes it will need to respect these qualities of a Trent education; the plan will have to be messy, interdisciplinary, and utterly devoted to creativity, imagination, and wonder.

Thoughts?

Short & Sweet

Labour Day Parade, Toronto c. 1900s

Labour Day Parades.  The Last Long Weekend of the Summer.  A Canadian tradition.  A Worker’s tradition to celebrate the accomplishments of working people everywhere--as well as the trade union movement responsible for the eight hour workday amongst other achievements.  Here’s wishing all readers a happy labour day weekend. 

And here's also a small plug to check out the new comments on various postings below.  Some red hot peppers there.  Definitely to be enjoyed.