Dead Voles

November 26, 2008

Class consciousness in the lumpenbourgeoisie

I’m going away for the long weekend, so for those of you escaping the loving clutches of family and unrescued by football I thought I’d leave a long, debatable one to chew on. It’s rough (I wrote it around the edges of a lot of grading) but if you’re patient and read generously I think the gist is here. I promise to reply faithfully to comments when I get back.

One of my first posts on this blog ventilated my thoughts about academic labor. Now a new institutional outrage in the Tennessee higher education system, which pays adjuncts $15k a year without benefits for a 5/5 teaching load (five courses per semester; four is generally considered high for permanent faculty), has once again refreshed my treachery toward the interests of my class. See, unlike many of my colleagues I am not convinced that it makes sense to describe people getting paid for academic work as exploited, oppressed, overworked, downtrodden, what have you. And although I am affectionately sympathetic to this kind of argument, and believe it is appropriate and strategic to make in a lot of situations for a lot of people, I think it is in some important ways counterproductive for academic professionals to make it about themselves.

Of course ‘making sense’ only happens within structured systems of meaning – cultures, theories – and I don’t mean to sidestep the relevant one here. Obviously it makes no sense to a calvinist, a daoist, a stoic, a burkeian conservative or a libertarian to describe academic work as exploitive, because that standpoint of critique does not exist in those systems of meaning. I’m saying I don’t think it makes sense to describe academic work as exploitive in marxist terms, which is the native vocabulary of such critiques. I’ll mention in passing that I also don’t think it makes sense to describe academic work as ‘oppressive’, but only because I find that to be a catch-all pseudo-critique that’s flung about by some folks on the left like monkeys fling poo anytime something upsetting happens.

Marx of course wanted to smash capitalism, but he admired capitalists and considered them a progressive historical force: destructive in important ways, usefully doomed by their own success. His disdain was reserved for well-meaning clueless intellectuals of various kinds, who he considered worse than useless, including utopian socialists (“Communist Manifesto”), liberals (“On the Jewish Question”), Young Hegelians (The Holy Family, The German Ideology), anarchists (The Poverty of Philosophy), reformers and trade unionists (“Critique of the Gotha Program”). For a brilliant redeployment of these critiques onto recent radical politics, see Robert Meister’s Political Identity: Thinking Through Marx. There’s a lot of sophisticated suspicion of the radical cred of eggheads in these references, but we’ll start with the obvious:

College professors are not proletarians.

I sometimes jokingly refer to my years as an itinerant adjunct as strawberry-picking, but it’s only a joke because it’s transparently silly. I did honest work but I wasn’t breaking my back in the hot sun, humiliated, subordinate and expendable, little more than a sentient machine. My working conditions were pleasant (I find schools pleasant), I enjoyed virtually complete autonomy in my workplace, I was respected as a professional and got full social credit for my work. Although I was sometimes needed, sometimes not, I accepted my responsibility to make my work ongoingly desirable. And as an independent contractor I could say screw this anytime, and I fully controlled the means of my production. It’s an insult to the struggle of real working-class folk to compare my life to theirs.

I was not well-paid. I’m still not by professional standards. Big deal. I coulda gone to law school. I make enough to live on. All needs beyond subsistence are social (Grundrisse) and I’m comfortable with many sociabilities. More importantly, since the bourgeoisie are themselves alienated in their own way, every bit of what I do in this job is my choice and my responsibility, or logically follows from my choices and responsibilities (e.g. there must be administrators; there must be assessments; to fight these things is to fight ourselves). I do not produce commodities, I work with students; and they are mirrors in which I see reflected my essential nature. My work is inherently satisfying, “a free manifestation of life, hence an enjoyment of life.” In short, my labor is unalienated and I am fully in touch with my species-being.

I was content to kibitz on other people’s posts about this until an intriguing reader comment at the post on this scandal at Easily Distracted drove me past the word-count threshold of polite commentary. Here’s what PQuincy said:

And I think we are exploiting adjuncts whom we pay $4500 a quarter for one course! Evidently, the market for academic proletarians is highly variable by region and institution.

But that still doesn’t justify radically divergent pay-scales for different groups with fundamentally similar qualifications. The steady differentiation between ‘full-time’ and ‘part-time’ faculty may be part of the ongoing commodification of expertise, but paradoxically, it also contributes to our ongoing movement (back) towards a society of estates in which privilege and distinction, not qualification, are primary determinants of status, and in which rent-seeking, not profit, drives all sorts of economic decisions.

This is a nice challenge. Just for reference, in the late 90’s I was paid as little as $1200 and as much as $3500 per class; as a tenured associate professor I am currently paid about $1700, I believe, for overloads. I don’t think these numbers are important in themselves, nor did Marx. There’s nothing about “justifying” different pay scales in Marx, or about fairness. In a capitalist economy everything is commodified, expertise being no exception. And as the expert and highly qualified Lumpenprofessor points out, in a capitalist economy work is not paid by its quantity or quality (the “labor” itself), but by its cost of reproduction – the amount it takes to get someone to do that work when it needs doing (the comments on his post are also illuminating):

Instead, Marx demonstrates that what the wage actually pays for is our “labor-power” — our capacity to do work. The wage pays a value equal to our means of subsistence — our house, car, food, clothes, cable-tv, health care, and kids — so that we can continue to come to work. This means that there is always a difference between the value of the wage paid and the value of the actual work done. The greater this difference, the better it is for the employer. This means that the difference in wages between tenure-track and adjunct faculty is not really about the amount or quality of work done, it is just about how well they eat.

That $1700 has nothing to do with my qualifications or my effort or my teaching ‘outcomes’. It has to do with securing a set minimum quality and quantity of work as needed. Apparently it’s sufficient, because I keep teaching overloads. From the labor-as-such standpoint all that matters is that I do it ‘well enough’. If I do it better than ‘well enough’, that’s a nice bonus for the students, the school, and my sense of vocation, but it’s irrelevant from a pay standpoint as long as I or someone enough like me keep(s) being willing to come back for the same pay.

It’s not hard to explain why the University pays adjuncts the minimum amount it takes to get them coming back. It’s much harder to explain why they ever pay more than that. And as long as we herd like lemmings to graduate programs and spend years earning doctorates for which there’s little apparent market, we will have little leverage to change this. No doubt it’s a nice ego boost to have a doctoral program at your school. Each new one incrementally damages the collective bargaining power of academics as workers. We’ll either need to dramatically cut our production of competitive laborers or wait for the revolution to solve that one.

But again – college professors are not proletarians. And the University is not (just) a capitalist enterprise. We operate in a capitalist context, which tends to drive the economics in ordinary ways. But there are also larger fiduciary responsibilities involved: the University is providing a service considered to be a general social good, and therefore providing as much of it as possible as cost-effectively as possible is a positive social good. Who is our employer? Students; society; the imagined community of a fully-educated population. For this reason, it also ought not to be hard to explain why committed academic professionals cheerfully provide instruction at levels higher than required to reproduce compensation. This is our mission, our ‘vocation’ in the calvinist/weberian sense, not just our job. We want our employers to get maximum value out of us for minimum cost; we should be actively complicit with this ‘exploitation’. To grub after money and quibble about what our colleagues make is a violation of our species-being.

Furthermore, when PQuincy says that pay inequality in academe “contributes to our ongoing movement (back) towards a society of estates in which privilege and distinction, not qualification, are primary determinants of status, and in which rent-seeking, not profit, drives all sorts of economic decisions,” s/he is on the right track, but there’s not a movement back here. The professional professoriate has always been a guild; its distinctive self-image, privileges and prerogatives go back to the medieval university. That’s why we wear the dopey robes to gragitation. Our remaining a guild is the only way to explain the fact that academic work has not been completely proletarianized, with price tags explicitly and universally attached to our every ‘product’ from teaching to advising to scholarship. Like all guilds, we are paid much more visibly in status and autonomy than mere, crude, dirty money.

Our leverage to get more than the market price of our labor-power and better than the usual conditions of work comes from that status, and is dependent on the University’s hybridity as both an enterprise within the economy and a status-conferring holy place hovering above it. It is accordingly catastrophically counterproductive to sink to the discourse of proletarian exploitation; it’s like throwing away the face cards in your hand and playing to lose. The question is not how to make ourselves more like workers by unionizing and struggling and Fighting The Man and whatnot. Furthermore this is not even more generally a way to achieve fairness and equality, and it’s a very dangerous strategy in its own right, as the UAW is currently discovering. We need to be working out ways to redescribe our status and privileges as foreshadowings of unalienated labor, then figuring out how to generalize this, not scrambling to join the chorus of the exploited – if for no other reason than they know better, and when they have their revolutions we eggheads are always among the first to get taken out and shot (or ‘re-educated’) no matter what.

So why is this discourse so appealing to people who ought to know better? Well, I’d say that has to do with the expansion of higher education in the postwar that brought a massive influx of proletarians into the academy. We control it now. We brought all of our class resentment with us and worked diligently to demolish the university’s elevated character, while simultaneously championing the right of every person to access its elevating gifts. Hmmm.

Colleagues, we must cease to soil our own roosts.

November 19, 2008

Readability, like flies

Filed under: chaos — Carl @ 5:24 pm

Shahar and Mikhail are wondering what the levels of readability other than High School and Genius might be, and suddenly I feel there’s some geeky fun to be had with epistemes of readability. I’m thinking along the lines of Foucault opening The Order of Things with the passage from Borges that quotes “‘a certain Chinese encyclopedia’ in which it is written that ‘animals are divided into: (a) belonging to the Emperor, (b) embalmed, (c) tame, (d) sucking pigs, (e) sirens, (f) fabulous, (g) stray dogs, (h) included in the present classification, (i) frenzied, (j) innumerable, (k) drawn with a very fine camelhair brush, (l) et cetera, (m) having just broken the water pitcher, (n) that from a long way off look like flies’.”

Readabilities might look like this, for example:

(a) head scratching, (b) bathroom only, (c) cereal box, (d) hopeless, (e) mirrored, (f) italicized, (g) written with a fingertip in the murderer’s blood, (h) text, (i) drifting, (j) in the style of Proust, (k) not, (l) max characters, (m) in a pinch, (n) waterlogged.

Any other suggestions?

November 18, 2008

A Heap of Teh Dead Voles

Filed under: boring stuff about me — Carl @ 5:13 pm

Thanks to the inexorable passage of time, accumulation of idle curiosity, the most excellent Historiann, and my undying ambition to outdo my friends the über-narcissists at Perverse Egalitarianism, I have a wondrous gift to bestow on you, oh peerless reader: a wealth of random useless information about this blog! Yay!

First, you should know that if you’ve been following along so far, you are officially a Genius according to The Blog Readability Test, which purports to measure the reading level required by a blog. Congratulations, I knew your perspicacity was commensurate with the discursive space of this text:

blog readability test

Next, it might interest you to know that according to the Genderanalyzer it is 76% likely that this blog was written by a guy! Phew. Only 24% of that pesky fem residue left to flush out and I’ll be man all man. (I think I must have picked up some points on all those Palin posts, or maybe they helped on the Genius bit.)

For those of you with cash in your pocket and flagging interest in the stock market, might I suggest a nice blog to add to your status portfolio? According to the Business Opportunities Weblog, mine is a real bargain (I blame that Genius thing, a real two-edged sword that) (cool, the sword metaphor’s got to get me another boy point or two at Genderanalyzer):


My blog is worth $12,419.88.
How much is your blog worth?

Finally, the Typealyzer was kind enough to sort me onto the Myers-Briggs scale. As performed on this blog, I am apparently an INTP “thinker,” helpfully described thus:

The logical and analytical type. They are especialy [sic] attuned to difficult creative and intellectual challenges and always look for something more complex to dig into. They are great at finding subtle connections between things and imagine [sic] far-reaching implications.

They enjoy working with complex things using a lot of concepts and imaginative models of reality. Since they are not very good at seeing and understanding the needs of other people, they might come across as arrogant, impatient and insensitive to people that need some time to understand what they are talking about.

Aren’t you done reading that yet, dumbass? What’s so hard to understand about concept-orientation, dingbat? (Yay, more boy points!) Actually, I find that if I turn other people’s feelings into a puzzle and go all aikido I’m able to simulate empathy quite well. But because we “thinkers” tend to jump from project to project once we’ve achieved mastery, not for long.

Finally, you may be fascinated and even underwhelmed to learn, thanks to the narcissizing free WordPress blogstats, that in about eight months of operation this blog has pumped out 92 posts; stimulated 297 comments (errrrummm, counting my own); attracted 7,136 pageviews; and blessedly dodged 696 spams, with one currently awaiting my cold hand of fate. Does anyone know if a nearly 3:1 spam-to-comment ratio is good?

November 14, 2008

Just one more on Palin then I’m done. Until she runs for Senate.

Filed under: chaos — Tags: , — Carl @ 1:51 am

November 13, 2008

Who knew?

Filed under: chaos — Carl @ 3:19 pm

Did you hear about the guy who was cloned without his knowledge? When he found out about it, he was beside himself.

Turns out you can read my blog in Czech translation.

Awesome. Czech it out. (Sorry, couldn’t resist.)

I’m reminded of the time my Dad discovered that completely unbeknownst to him, his book on the philosophy of economics had been translated into Spanish. He thought that was especially odd because he’d very carefully selected his examples to make sense to an American readership, and he would have been happy to change them for the new audience.

If I can be of any help translating culture, not just words, let me know and I’ll do my best.

November 11, 2008

Just-so stories: theory

Digging back through some old listserv stuff to see if there’s anything useful, I came upon this answer I wrote to a guy named Mike who wanted to know how theories happen. The context was a discussion about whether historians can go gather facts without having a theory first. (Others said one must, one must, and I said one can’t, one can’t.)

Teaching theories to people who doubt the value of theory in the first place is sweaty and hard. In this post my approach, as it often is, was to tell a fairytale:

Theories develop from the interaction of experience and cognitive processing. This interaction begins at, or even before, birth. You plop out and all this stuff starts happening to you. You have no idea how to make sense of it, of course. Gradually, things happen more than once and you can start to box them up (you develop theories).

Your original boxes are really silly. They’re works-in-progress. Lots of stuff keeps happening, and you’re making more and more sense of it. Because the original boxes were silly (hey, you were a newborn) they end up exploding. You have any number of these cognitive ruptures, when stuff just doesn’t fit into one of the boxes (or fits into several). Eventually, sooner for some, never for others, you get sick of having your world turned upside down all the time and you lock in your theoretical structure where it happens to be at the time. Cats don’t fly. Apples don’t fall upwards. Women don’t make good prime ministers. That sort of thing.

Experiences that aren’t repeated or that just don’t fit anywhere are left lying about (your psychoanalyst may call this “denial”).

Obviously, at some primordial point in the process there was an experience that didn’t have a theory there already trying to make sense of it. But by the time we get old enough to talk, our experiences (and the facts we deduce from them) are thoroughly arranged in meaningful order by the theories developed out of the accidents of our previous experience. Language seals the deal, by offering vocabularies only for those experiences that have been pre-approved by the community that developed and uses the language. We keep learning, but each new bit of experience has to plug itself into the ever more elaborate structure of our (theoretical) sense-making apparatus. There’s still an interaction between the experience and the theory, but the theory’s got a lot of experiential weight behind it by now, including the experience of an entire culture picked up through language.

This is all pragmatic. None of it is philosophically warranted as “True.” As old Hume pointed out, just because the sun rises a bunch of mornings in a row is no good warrant to assert that it will again. But it’s a good bet, and in ordinary life we take those kinds of bets all the time. You could call those bets theories, too.

Now — imagine living life WITHOUT those bets. Anxiety starts over whether the sun will come up, and spreads from there. You don’t even know what a historian is, let alone what you’re doing standing over this dusty box of old papers. That’s what living, or working, without a theory would be like.

November 7, 2008

The art of the possible

How to tell the leaders from the led in political discourse:

…[I]f the concrete political act, as Croce says, is made real in the person of the political leader, it should be observed that the characteristic of the leader as such is certainly not passionality, but rather cold, precise, objectively almost impersonal calculation of the forces in struggle and of their relationships…. The leader rouses and directs the passions, but he himself is ‘immune’ to them or dominates them [in himself] the better to unleash them, rein them in at the given moment, discipline them, etc. He must know them, as an objective element of fact, as force, more than ‘feel them’ immediately, he must know them and understand them, albeit with ‘great sympathy’ (and in such case passion assumes a superior form…).

– Antonio Gramsci, Quaderni del carcere [Prison Notebooks], notebook 26, § 5, 2299, my translation. (In this note Gramsci goes on to discuss irony and sarcasm as political stances; sarcasm is both a form of advanced consciousness and a passional means of criticizing contradictions in order to elevate consciousness in others.)

As many others have noted, Newsweek is currently doing a smashing job of documenting exactly what this kind of leadership looks like in practice in a series of reports on the Obama campaign.

November 5, 2008

Obamas’ dog

Filed under: chaos, the ridiculous, the sublime — Tags: — Carl @ 3:52 pm

They totally oughta get a pit bull and name her Sarah.

Such a sweetie.

November 3, 2008

Liberal bias in the liberal arts

No one much disputes that academics are disproportionately liberal, although it may be the case that we are swinging back toward moderate. But does this mean that we indoctrinate the young?

According to three new studies surveyed by Patricia Cohen in the New York Times, the answer is no.

The notion that students are induced to move leftward “is a fantasy,” said Jeremy D. Mayer…. When it comes to shaping a young person’s political views, “it is really hard to change the mind of anyone over 15,” said Mr. Mayer, who did extensive research on faculty and students.

“Parents and family are the most important influence,” followed by the news media and peers, he said. “Professors are among the least influential.”

This squares with Tim Clydesdale’s work on first year students and the college experience (previously discussed here), in which he found that students put their core values in an “identity lockbox” and that very few students find a liberal arts education deeply transformative.

And it squares with the research (previously discussed here) suggesting that undecided people have really already decided, and with my observations about default theories.

And it squares with my own experience. If anything, higher education has made me more conservative over the years, as marination in the value of balanced critical thinking and seasoning with diverse perspectives (including outside the academy) has mellowed the strong flavors of my youthful radical certainties. Of course, balanced critical thinking and respectful attention to diverse perspectives are themselves liberal values, ones that are at the heart of the liberal arts. But there’s no traction in them for making anyone change their mind, because whatever you think already is part of what needs to be respected and understood on the way to a more comprehensive understanding. As conservative professor James Joyner wryly notes,

Even attending a state school in the Deep South, my political science and history professors were predominantly (but not exclusively) liberal. But debating them tended to reinforce my conservative leanings. Years later, teaching political science courses to predominantly conservative students, I oftentimes found myself taking a Devil’s Advocate stance simply to force them to challenge their own preconceptions. (Which, on reflection, made me wonder if my own profs hadn’t done the same thing.)

Yeah, I can work with that guy.

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