Happy Talk

For those of us who lived through the Vietnam War, this piece in the Washington Post is full of strange echoes & the sound of machinery clanging in the background as the sets are changed. It is full of the same kinds of assertions spoken by the same kinds of politicians & generals using the same cliches & engaging in the same forms of magical thinking as their fathers & grandfathers employed to fool themselves & the American people that this is / was a noble & high-minded undertaking & (more importantly) that it could be done. At least in Vietnam the vast majority of the population wanted a single nation with a single government; in Iraq the people want to live in sectarian subdivisions of the old colonial hodge-podge — & some, I suspect, don’t want any strong government to emerge because lack of central authority simplifies their corrupt & criminal projects. It’s bad enough that we have, in the US, an elaborate structure of fantasies about Vietnam that prevent us from thinking clearly & understanding what happened there, but that war is long past. That we are developing a similarly false structure of meaning about Iraq even as we are fighting there does not bode well. Not for “the effort,” as early Vietnam hawks called that war, & not, certainly, for “the troops,” around which a kind of hagiographic fog has formed, preventing us from even seeing them as individuals who might be asked to reflect on their participation in a war their fellow-citizens do not support & that is fundamentally unwinable.

Safety & the Imagination

There is a very good article by Elizabeth Redden at Inside Higher Ed yesterday on the threat of violence in creative writing classrooms. At about the same time as the Virginia Tech massacre, there was an incident (that did not eventuate in violence) at San Jose State. An instructor there, after reading a disturbing story in which he was portrayed (and murdered), asked to be relieved of teaching duties. I would never second-guess his decision, nor the university’s to grant it; but there is a wider danger here. The danger that a combination of fear, corporatism, & conformity will kill the pursuit of the imagination in the classroom. The discussion thread after the article was interesting — & more coherent than is often the case with such things — with some commenters calling for restrictions on students’ behavior & rules about the content of writing while others took the view that the loss of intellectual freedom was not worth the cost of “protecting” ourselves & out students against a minuscule threat. I also found it amusing that several of those commenting had distinctly strange ideas about what actually goes on in a creative writing classroom. Some kind of therapy session in which correct grammar is forbidden, apparently. But I digress. I’m posting this because I wanted to note the good sense of San Jose State’s director of creative writing, Alan Soldofsky:

Alan Soldofsky, director of creative writing at San Jose State, declined to comment on the particulars of the incident, but said via e-mail that the university’s creative writing faculty have had informal discussions about the issues at stake, and pointed out that the Academic Senate has conducted a more formal review of campus procedures in the case of a student emergency. In general, Soldofsky wrote he would be inclined to err on the side of caution in light of the Virginia Tech shootings. “However, by taking student writing seriously when it contains threats of violence — direct or implied — to another member of the university community (student, faculty, or staff member), does give an individual student the power to intimidate instructors with whom he or she may have disagreements or to seek attention from the instructor or from class members in disruptive and negative ways,” he said.

“As for my own point of view, I see creative writing not so much as a form of self-expression (or in the case of problem students, acting out), but of learning to express one’s ‘otherness,’ in the sense of being able to use one’s imagination to devise stories or poems out of, as Keats called it, one’s ‘negative capability.’ That is the ability not to be yourself and not to put your own limited self-interested point of view into one’s creative writing. And to hold contradictory emotions and ideas together in your mind at once without judgment. To be as Emily Dickinson called it ‘a nobody.’”

“In that sense, a threat of violence directed specifically toward a member of the university community in a creative writing class represents a student’s failure of imagination, and should be seen as cry for help or cry for attention,” Soldofsky said, describing the need of the instructor in that case to judge the correct course of action to protect him/herself and the students (with the guidance and support, he added, of the institution). “But of course,” Soldofsky said, “the individual student’s rights must also be considered and be protected, up to the point when that individual student’s story or poem violates the rights of others.” [from IHE, linked at beginning of post.]

Understanding Vietnam (Online Version)

The website for my online version of Understanding Vietnam went live today. I asked each student to post something about themselves in the discussion forum. This is what I wrote to get the discussion started:

I first got interested in Vietnam in 1968 when I had to sign up with the Selective Service & became eligible for the draft. At that time, there was a system in place in which college students were given deferments from the draft, at least until they graduated. Since I went on to college in 1969, I had such a deferment. But the draft was changing, at least partly in response to protests about its unfairness. Young men, not going on to college – working class, often minority – were getting drafted & sent to fight in Vietnam while middle class kids like me got a pass. So in 1970 a lottery system was initiated: Each day of the year was pulled out of a hopper one at a time & the order recorded. If your birthday came out of the hopper early you got a low number that meant you would be chosen for the draft before someone with a higher number. No more student deferments. I remember very clearly sitting around my dorm room at the University of Washington in Seattle with several friends listening on the radio to Selective Service officials as they pulled numbers out of the bin. My roommate got number 26. I got 350. Since there was a new lottery each year & each crop of eighteen-year-olds became eligible in turn, my number virtually assured me that I would not be drafted.

We’ll talk more about the draft in the fifth & sixth weeks of the class – I mention it here, as I said, because it focused my attention on the war then raging in Vietnam. Even after I lucked out with a high number, I joined protests against the war. Over the course of the semester we will discuss the politics of the war in detail, so I’ll only say here that I believe those of us who were against the war got it right and those who supported the war got it wrong.

After the war wound down in 1973 – 1975, like most Americans, I mostly forgot about it. It wasn’t until the mid 1990s, in fact, that Vietnam came into focus for me again. I had an opportunity to spend a month there in 1996 on a study tour with several other academics. It is not an exaggeration to say I fell in love with the place. I went back for several visits in the early 1990s, then in 2000 – 2001 I spent a year living & working in Hanoi as a Fulbright Research Scholar. It was one of the most intense & important years of my life. I worked to learn a bit of the Vietnamese language – I’m hardly fluent – and to understand the relationship between my country & Vietnam, who had been such bitter enemies only three decades earlier. That experience is the basis of this course.

 

Problems in Epistemology

The NY Times has an article this morning about the second Republican presidential debate. Or scary clown show.

The scenario presented to the 10 Republican presidential candidates was chilling: Three American shopping malls had been bombed, producing scores of casualties. Terrorists with detailed knowledge of another imminent and deadlier attack had been captured and taken to Guantánamo Bay, Cuba. The question: How far can the authorities go in interrogating the terrorists to get information to avert a fourth attack?

The leading candidates all tried to out-tough each other, though John McCain, who has actually been tortured, said to his credit, “It’s not about the terrorists, it’s about us. It’s about what kind of country we are.” It’s the we’re-better-than-them argument. Would that it were true. But what struck me about the Times piece was not so much the answers given, but the question. The question makes (at least) two assumptions:

  1. That there is a moral warrant to “do anything” under certain circumstances;
  2. that there are cases in which one knows that another person knows a particular thing.

The problem with the first assumption is that the person making it can know what circumstances lead to such a warrant. The problem with the second is that we have know way of knowing that terrorist x knows the information that, if we knew it, would help us prevent another terrorist act; in fact, if we knew that the terrorist knew, it is very likely we would know what he knew as well. But none of this leads to the desired narrative with its warrant for torture.