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I have an odd affection for Ward Churchill.  I've never met this embattled fellow professor.  I doubt I ever will.  I doubt even more that he has any affection for me, odd or otherwise.

I'm a military historian.  Sure, I could tell you that one of my specialties is the ethics of war, and that my current research deals with such trendy, left-leaning subjects as counterhegemonic resistance or the influence of war upon race formation in the United States.  It sounds very cool, very fellow traveler.  But then you read my c.v., and it says that I wrote part of the standard military history textbook at West Point, and that I've interned at RAND Corporation, lectured at the Army War College, and participated in a conference sponsored by the Marine Corps University.  It sort of blows the image.  If the "technocrats" of the Twin Towers were "little Eichmanns," as Churchill puts it in his now notorious essay, I'm a little Himmler.

It gets worse.  Look deeper into the c.v. and you'll find that I've written 25,000-word magazine biographies of, among others, Robert E. Lee, Stonewall Jackson, Jefferson Davis, and--shudder!--Nathan Bedford Forrest.  I suppose you could desperately imagine that these are searing exposes of four white racists, but I'm afraid not.  They were critical enough to irritate a few Sons of Confederate Veterans, but most readers would characterize them as respectful; even, in the case of Lee and Jackson, admiring.

Of course, I wrote them years ago, before I presumably drank the kool-aid and became a tenured radical.  Let's face it, if you're an ideologue of the right, and you really need to see me as one of Churchill's defenders, you'll find a way to do it.

So let me make it easy for you.

I love Ward Churchill.

There!  I said it, and I feel better.  And so do you, if you're a warrior of the far right.  You've got your proof.  Now you can feed it to your readers, who will chortle over it with you.  They won't think, as I would think, that you're playing them for fools, feeding them quotes out of context or hiding in plain sight the equation of engagement with agreement.

It's all good, because I love you too, David Horowitz.

I love you guys because you help me think.  There's really nothing like a radical perspective to make you reconsider basic premises, and for someone in my business, for whom ideas are playthings, this is all great fun.  I realize that for you ideas aren't playthings, but blasting caps, and you have a point.  Ideas indeed have real world consequences.  The ideas expressed in Ward Churchill's "roosting chickens" essay have angered many.  The ideas expressed in the statement of principles of The Project for the New American Century have killed, to date, some 1,500 American service personnel as well as 16,000 to 18,000 Iraqi civilians, directly or by opening the door to a bloody insurgency.  They may also have opened the door to democracy in the Middle East.  I'll believe that when I see it, but your point is made.  Ideas are powerful.  I can see why they scare you.

But while I appreciate your concern that an idea may fall into the wrong mind, I have to say that I'm an adult, and I would also appreciate the common courtesy of your letting me think for myself.  My students, incidentally, feel the same way.  I brainwashed them.  Sue me.

A challenge to those on the right:  bring it on.  Savage me all you want.  Trust me, a military historian can't get enough of your scorn.  In the academy it's like a badge of honor.  It gets me in the club.  People stop thinking that I'm probably a CIA plant.  Of course, I've never been much for clubs, so . . .

A challenge to those on the left:  don't try to play me the way the far right plays its own supporters, goading them with sound bites and crude propaganda.  I've seen you do it, too.  Knock it off.  Sure, I'm a registered Democrat, but don't take that for granted.  Don't think, for instance, that because I find FrontPage magazine lopsided and unfair that I will not detach the substance of its argument from its tendentious presentation--just as I've been doing with Churchill.  If eighty percent of university faculty members are really politically left of center--and that squares with my own observations, at least within the humanities--then how come?  Is there a political gate-keeping within the academy?  I've seen no overt evidence of it, but it's plausible that choices made according to other criteria have the consequence, unintended but perhaps congenial, of keeping a lid on conservative voices.  I mean, it seems to me that you can accomplish quite a lot of political gate-keeping just by denigrating the fields most likely to attract conservatives as being "traditional," "old-fashioned," and "overrepresented" (without checking too closely to see if this is in fact the case).

So let me repeat:  I love you, Ward Churchill.  I love you too, David Horowitz.  You tortured, angry, lovely men--you guys invigorate my life.  Churchill helps me figure out what would happen if Tom Barnett got to implement the national security plan outlined in The Pentagon's New Map.  (Hint:  ka-boom!!)  Horowitz helps me figure out what would happen if I asked my colleagues, here and elsewhere, why so few academics in the humanities are Republicans?  (Hint:  Hollow jokes about how it's because academics are smart.  Yeah, so smart the other guys control all three branches of government.)

Recall the famous slogan in the "war room" of the 1992 Clinton campaign:  It's the economy, stupid.  Well, for people in the academy it's the ideas, stupid.  We like ideas.  We need ideas.  We play with ideas, the bigger, the bolder, the better.  Sure, they're not just playthings, they're blasting caps; and now and again we lose a finger (or, who knows, even tenure).  But we can never have enough of them.

Saturday, March 5, 2005 - 12:27

The Ward Churchill thing has been flogged pretty hard, by me as much as anyone else. But there's one dimension I don't see discussed very much, namely the role of academicians in helping to create the controversy in the first place.

A few weeks ago I listened, via streaming audio, to an interview with Churchill on a Denver radio talk show. The host did a fairly good job of handling the interview. Churchill himself was fairly articulate except when called upon to explain the infamous "little Eichmanns" analogy. Then he suddenly got sort of quasi-articulate: articulate enough, I thought, that his supporters would find him lucid, but not so much as to deprive his opponents of ammunition. It seemed pretty much the way he liked it.

Toward the end of the broadcast, a Colorado state senator named Tom Wiens called in from the road to ask Churchill a few questions about his salary and teaching load: details he had planned to have his staff track down but if Churchill could offer them over the phone, what the heck. Senator Wiens did not exploit the chance to demagogue, posture or grandstand. He sounded to me like a conscientious public official intent on doing his job. I found that refreshing and sent him an email to say so.

To my surprise, a week later he actually wrote back to thank me. He offered some thoughts on the "free speech" aspect of the Churchill imbroglio, as opposed to all the other aspects that had yet to make much of an appearance: Churchill's Native American identity or lack thereof, his credentials, the charge of plagiarism, and so on. I will not quote from the email because he did not specifically give me leave to do so, and although I asked permission I never heard from him again. But as I began writing this post, I checked Senator Wiens' political web site and found that soon after he got a follow-up email from me--which I'll reprint in a moment--he joined the campaign to get Churchill dismissed.

"[C]hurchill's offensive comments are grounds for dismissal alone," states a press release from his office, "however Wiens also pointed out that the professor's statements show a lack of serious scholarship and questioned why a prestigious university such as CU would choose to hire someone of such questionable academic caliber and entrust him with our children's education. Just like any other state-paid job where competence is expected, Wiens is concerned that Colorado taxpayers aren't getting their money's worth in this case. In addition, this episode could cause CU's commitment to academic excellence to be called into question."

I think the senator is wrong about the offensive comments being grounds for dismissal. It doesn't fit my reading of CU's policies. But judging by the senator's email to me, the idea that "Colorado taxpayers aren't getting their money's worth" is where the rubber hit the road for him. The rest could well be just political posturing of the sort that politicians do.

Here's my reply to Senator Wiens. I have polished the style just slightly; otherwise it is word for word what I wrote:

Hi Tom (if I may),

I think you're on target.  The question is how the enforcement mechanism is handled.

The Ward Churchill thing has served as a wakeup call for a lot of people, not just among public officials and university administrators but also rank-and-file professors like myself.  I didn't run across Churchill's "roosting chickens" essay until a couple of weeks ago, but had I done so in September 2001 my most likely response, as a professional historian, would have been to ignore it.  Every profession has its own characteristic culture.  Physicians think, act, and dress a certain way.  So do lawyers.  So do clergy.  So do military officers.  And so do academics.

Confronted with a piece of shoddy scholarship, the response of most academics is simply to ignore it.  We don't discuss it, don't condemn it.  We  just evaluate it as unworthy of engagement.  Shoddy scholarship doesn't even get reviewed in academic journals, because space is at a premium and why expend space discussing a book or article that is egregiously sub-standard?  True, books and articles do get evaluated negatively, but these nearly always are books and articles that have met some sort of "quality threshold," if you will.  Typically they have been published by a university press or in a refereed journal, which means that at least a couple of experts have read and commented on the book or article in manuscript and said, yes, other historians--at least specialists in a given field--should read this.

It seems to me that a person occupying your office could legitimately pressure the historical profession to revisit this tendency to ignore shoddy scholarship, when shoddy scholarship attempts to gain a hearing by lobbing grenades like the "little Eichmanns" analogy.

Here is how you could do it.  And please forgive me if this sounds obvious or somehow condescending.  I was first exposed to the literature on professionalism and professionalization as an undergraduate, but it was in an unusual context--military professionalism--and I am not sure how common it is for educated people to receive systematic exposure to this literature. I may be telling you much that you already know.  If so, I apologize and ask for your patience.

Professions enjoy a privileged status in society because they serve as a reservoir of skilled talent which society cannot readily supply.  It takes a physician, for instance, to train a physician, and so we give the medical profession wide latitude in choosing those who will receive the chance to learn medicine, in determining how such people will be trained, and in deciding when they will be regarded as competent enough to practice.  We also give the medical profession wide latitude to police its own membership.  We as a society do this because we assume that the medical profession-- so long as it is socially responsible --will recruit, train, and police physicians better than we could do it ourselves.

Presumably, professional (i.e., academic) historians enjoy a privileged status in society according to a similar rationale.  If that profession fails to demonstrate social responsibility, however--if it ignores the Ward Churchills rather than demands that the Churchills produce competent scholarship--then I think that you and your fellow public officials have the obligation to insist that the profession meet its social responsibilities.  And if not, to serve notice that society will have to revisit the privileged status it accords academic historians.

I think that if UC were to fire Churchill for his essay it would be in violation of its own current policies.  If it fired him for "fraud," for not being a "real Indian," no one would be fooled.  We would all recognize that the real reason was, again, that "Roosting Chickens" essay.  Cardinal Richelieu once said that if handed two paragraphs written by any given man, Richelieu would find something in it that would hang him.  Similarly, most middle-aged Americans have something in their backgrounds such that, if you looked hard enough and then squeezed hard enough, would wreck their lives.  Witch hunts succeed because of this.

The better course would be to encourage the historical profession to do in the future what it failed to do in 2001, when Churchill first published the essay;  and again in 2004, when Churchill republished the essay in book form.  What we should have done goes something like this:

You call this an indictment of American foreign policy?  Such indictments are a dime a dozen.  Who on the left has not argued that 9/11 is a reaction to American foreign policy over the past 20-30 years?  Noam Chomsky, Chalmers Johnson, and Gore Vidal are only three names on the long list of people who have made this case and made it more eloquently, rigorously, and persuasively than you.

You might say that no one else compares the WTC "technocrats" to "little Eichmanns."  But you can't get your "little Eichmann" analogy to work, because you fail to explain clearly Eichmann's defense in his trial for war crimes that the Final Solution was bureaucratized, and that his responsibility was merely to round up and transport Jews.  His responsibilities ended at the Auschwitz gates.  Had you done so, your readers might have seen that, arguably,  the "technocrats" in the World Trade Center worked on financial deals that ultimately harmed people in the developing world and did so without realizing it, because as bureaucrats they were trained to think in terms of the job in front of them, not in terms of its larger consequences.  Of course, in that case your analogy would fail because Eichmann assuredly knew the entire design of the Final Solution.  He kept the minutes at the Wanssee Conference in January 1942.

Calling the terrorists "combat teams":  Nice try.  We need, for purposes of analysis, a vocabulary concerning terrorism that is less fraught with moralistic overtones.  But you cannot possibly be serious to frame the attack on the World Trade Center within the structure of strategic bombing under the laws and usages of war.  For one thing, that structure contemplates the use of force by state-level actors, and these were non-state actors.  More importantly, the structure arises out of just war doctrine, and I somehow doubt the hijackers understood and justified their acts within the framework of a Judeo-Christian ethic of war.

Three years have passed. You wrote the original essay the day after 9/11, when we could only guess at the hijackers' identity and had few specifics about those who died in the attack.  At this point, however, much new information has emerged by which you could test the ideas in your original essay and add specifics and nuance.  Have you revised the essay in order to incorporate the wealth of information on Osama Bin Laden and Al-Qaeda?  Have you investigated what the firm of, say, Cantor Fitzgerald was actually doing the morning of 9/11?  Identified and developed a case study or studies to show how a specific trade deal created in the Twin Towers played out in a specific place and affected a specific group of people?  There is a fairly substantial literature on the adverse consequences of globalization, you know.  Have you  incorporated any of it into your scholarship?

I thought not.

-- That, Tom, is what we ought to have done.  We failed to do it, and we owe you an apology for that.  As professionals we are now necessarily obliged to defend Prof. Churchill's right to free speech, and as professionals we warn of the baneful effects that would fall upon controversial but sound, rigorous scholarship if Churchill were to be stripped of faculty status as well as his chairmanship of the ethnic studies department.  But as professionals we could and should have stopped this train before it ever left the gate.  We should have fixed this problem.  You should never have had to spend a moment of your time with it.  You have a right to insist that we clean up our act.  I won't mind a bit.  The next time I defend some controversial bit of scholarship, I don't want to feel my face redden when I do it.

Best,

Mark


Obviously, I didn't have much influence on Senator Wiens. But if you were looking around for evidence that we are prepared to do what I suggested, how much would you find?

Monday, August 8, 2005 - 12:03

The AHA has recently issued a revised Statement on Standards of Professional Conduct. It was approved by the Professional Division, December 9, 2004 and adopted by Council, January 6, 2005.

Part of the statement reads:
In contesting each other’s interpretations, professional historians recognize that the resulting disagreements can deepen and enrich historical understanding by generating new questions, new arguments, and new lines of investigation. This crucial insight underpins some of the most important shared values that define the professional conduct of historians. They believe in vigorous debate, but they also believe in civility. [Emphasis supplied]They rely on their own perspectives as they probe the past for meaning, but they also subject those perspectives to critical scrutiny by testing them against the views of others.

Historians celebrate intellectual communities governed by mutual respect and constructive criticism. The preeminent value of such communities is reasoned discourse--­the continuous colloquy among historians holding diverse points of view who learn from each other as they pursue topics of mutual interest. A commitment to such discourse--balancing fair and honest criticism with tolerance and openness to different ideas--­makes possible the fruitful exchange of views, opinions, and knowledge.

This being the case, it is worth repeating that a great many dilemmas associated with the professional practice of history can be resolved by returning to the core values that the preceding paragraphs have sought to sketch. Historians should practice their craft with integrity. They should honor the historical record. They should document their sources. They should acknowledge their debts to the work of other scholars. They should respect and welcome divergent points of view even as they argue and subject those views to critical scrutiny. They should remember that our collective enterprise depends on mutual trust. And they should never betray that trust.
Much of the statement appears to have been written in response to the Joe Ellis controversy and certain famous episiodes of plagiarism, and the statement may need to be revised a bit in light of the Ward Churchill controversy. Even so, the phrases I have bold-faced do seem to speak to aspects of our espoused professional culture that seem relevant to the Ward Churchill matter.

I want to suggest, however, that it is hard to find much evidence to support the idea that prior to the Hamilton College flap in January 2005, any historians, much less enough to be representative of the profession, took issue with Churchill's essay, "On the Justice of Roosting Chickens" or with its final version which was published last year by AK Press in Oakland, Calif. as On the Justice of Roosting Chickens: Reflections on the Consequences of U.S. Imperial Arrogance and Criminality. The online essay was written before it was known who had struck the Twin Towers and Pentagon on 9/11. The final version, although published three years later, barely takes into account the wealth of info on Al Qaeda and its motivations that had come to light by then, nor does it improve significantly in documenting its contention that the World Trade Center"technocrats" were engaged--knowingly, he wants to argue--in genocidal projects.

I got some flak from the political right for trying to take Churchill's essay seriously, if only to confirm what lousy scholarship it really semed to be. I am now trying to take seriously the idea that academic speech must also be responsible speech, that while we must respect free speech we have an obligation as a profession to distance ourselves from those who present slipshod scholarship wearing the mantle of a professional historian.

I do not believe we as a profession need a formal rule on this matter. I believe we can be a very scary bunch of people when we want to be. I have seen for years the way in which our informal professional culture has intimidated:
  • historians who wish to write popular history
  • historians who wish to work in subjects deemed"traditional"
  • historians who spend"too much time" getting the next book done
  • historians who investigate the potential of new media--conceptual" cutting edge" good; technological" cutting edge" bad
I could multiply examples. I will give only one more, which is that since a post that focused on"the role of academicians in helping to create the [Churchill]controversy in the first place," I have received not just public support (and some criticism), but also private email from historians who are--get this!--afraid to speak out publicly on this issue because they are untenured and are afraid it would jeopardize their careers.

If we can exert a chilling effect on the historians above, we can certainly exert a chilling effect on"historians" who undercut the standing of our profession, and undermine the credibility of those who do engage in responsible dialogue.

Most of us, however, simply won't do it. As I said in the earlier post,"Confronted with a piece of shoddy scholarship, the response of most academics is simply to ignore it. We don't discuss it, don't condemn it. We just evaluate it as unworthy of engagement."

In certain instances, however, that is not an adequate response. The refusal to speak out against bad history is bad for the profession. Most historians seem to think that the politicians in Colorado are wrong to be gunning for Churchill's job. That may be so. But it is hard to see how this profession--which does not hesitate to make judgments re student grades, graduate admissions, job hiring, tenure, promotion, etc.--has done much of anything to suggest that it has the interest or will to police its own profession.

I yield to no one in my belief that a) you can express any idea you want; and b) historians should be engaged in public conversations as well as academic ones. But if we expect to be taken seriously as a profession we have a responsibility to confront the Ward Churchills not about their ideas--Churchill's actual critique is merely warmed-over Noam Chomsky, and Chomsky does it so much better--but about the quality of their presentations.

I invite you to join me in a conversation on this matter.

Wednesday, March 16, 2005 - 07:35

The historian from whom I received my graduate training in early American history was Merton Dillon, now a professor emeritus at The Ohio State University. Merton has written a number of books on the antislavery movement, among them Slavery Attacked: Southern Slaves and their Allies, 1619-1865 (Baton Rouge, 1990), one of the standard works in the field.

A couple of months ago, when I first really became aware of blogging, something about the medium niggled at the back of my mind, and finally I sent Merton an email with a question and some links for him to follow. Here is Merton's response:

Dear Mark,

I have succeeded in hooking up with your blog(s) and web sites and thus have access to the other sites you favored me with. I have to confess, though, that I haven't yet learned, and probaby never will learn, to enjoy this exercise or diversion. [But be that as it may, your basic observation about the resemblance between blogs and abolitionist newspapers is correct.]

A few words about analogizing bloggers and abolitionists: The earliest white persons of antislavery conviction sought to find others of kindred persuasion. Quakers were apparently the first to accomplish this, within the narrow boundaries of their own fellowship, by giving testimony at Quaker Meetings and Meetings of Sufferings. In the 18th century individual Friends traveled the colonies spreading the antislavery message among fellow Friends as thought it were the Gospel. A few of them wrote pamphlets or tracts which they distributed to likely converts.

The problem, then, in an age lacking popular print or other conduits of information, was how to reach like-minded people. How can such people find each other? How can random and inchoate ideas be gathered from these sympathetic but disparate people and molded into an acceptable, rationally consistent program? Interchange of thought must be the process. What shall be the agency?

Beginning around 1820 small, shoestring newspapers began the process. [Benjamin] Lundy's [The Genius of Universal] Emancipation was one of the first and most long-lasting. Lundy sent his paper where he thought it might be welcomed. He printed exposes of the slave systen and proposed remedies. He invited readers to contribute their ideas. Later, [William Lloyd] Garrison did the same. The remedies were as varied as the critiques.

It took a while before antislavery advocates found each other and developed something like a community. It took still longer for them to forge a program. It is not ungenerous to conclude that, despite all their writing, all their speaking, all their conferring, they never were able to set forth a program for abolitionism that all opponents of slavery found acceptable, but they did create a society or community. The process was similar to that experienced more recently by the founders of feminism, gay communities, etc.

How do people find each other? Bloggers in quite systematic and lightning-speed fashion are taking advantage of the opportunities technology has given them to speed and share ideas and, potentially, to create societies all with a facility Abolitionists could not have dreamed of.

Sincerely,

Merton


Saturday, April 16, 2005 - 01:43

That's my colleague, Geoffrey Parker. I took that picture back in February during a discussion in which I introduced him to blogging. In it, he's reading The Sixty-first Minute, the famous Powerline post that ultimately cost Dan Rather his job.

You may have heard of Geoffrey. He has written, edited, or co-edited thirty-two books. His best-known work is probably The Military Revolution. Military innovation and the rise of the West, 1500-1800, first published by Cambridge University Press in 1988 and winner of two book prizes. A second, expanded edition came out in 1996, with Chinese, French, Italian, Japanese and Spanish translations. A third, revised edition appeared in 2000 (Italian translation already available, Spanish translation in preparation.)

Geoffrey doesn't blog. He doesn't need to.

But he respects the fact that I blog, and that I need to. My department shares that respect. My annual review this year included the following:

"[In the past year, you published this, taught that, and served on such and such a committee.] Finally, you maintained a very interesting and important academic military history blog, which you have used with skill to develop ideas about the field and also to advance your thinking on important scholarly issues...."

Lest that sound like the department was just humoring me, I should add that the department also humored me with a nice raise in salary.

Manan Ahmed's post Blogging Away the Job 2 alerted me to the fact that Ivan Tribble is back, and for the most part I concur with Manan's assessment that Prof. T's new article is thin. (If you want my full view, you will find it on Blog Them Out of the Stone Age).

Based on Prof. T's article I cannot tell if my blog would meet with his tepid approval or not. It is, on the one hand, professionally oriented and deals mainly with the question of how to expand the field of military history. But on the other hand it speaks candidly about aspects of my personal life, most notably the fact that I have a mood disorder called Bipolar Disorder.

I was diagnosed with the disorder at age 26, about a year before I embarked on my PhD. It did not prevent me from completing the PhD, or from writing a prize-winning first book, or from getting tenure a year early, or from winning three awards over the years for teaching excellence. But it does make my life difficult at times, and from Professor Tribble's original article I judge that if he knew of my condition--and, horrors, that I had the temerity to discuss it publicly--my application for a job in his department would swiftly find the wastebasket.

(That application is totally hypothetical, by the way. I would not be caught dead in Prof. T's department, and if I ever find out the actual name of that department, I will steer my advisees away from it as firmly as I can.)

What Professor T fails to grasp, but what my own department fortunately understands, is that most of us in academe are actual human beings. We have struggles. We have foibles. Some of us need to let off steam. Most of us need to find a sense of community. And blogging can help provide that. It can, in ways that are obvious or not so obvious, help us do our jobs.

In my own case, the depressive phases of the mood disorder produce feelings that result in distorted thoughts about the quality of my work--"This is horrible, that sucks," and so on. Blogging is the best way I have found thus far to rescue me from that. Most of my posts are, in one way or another, drafts of work in progress. The blog essentially accelerates the point at which my writing gets the intervention of actual as opposed to notional readers. It replaces my demon-like internal notional readers, who reflect that distorted thinking, with living, breathing readers who are, by and large, supportive and who therefore spur me on toward a more regular pace of production.

Prof. Tribble might nonetheless object that I could do this without actually telling people I have bipolar disorder. To that I would respond: Read the blog. The disorder isn't as divorced from my scholarly interests as one might think.

I would also respond that the illness requires constant vigilance and that the blog makes it difficult to hide those times when I am, in the psychiatric term,"decompensating;" that is, getting hypomanic or depressed. Too many posts, or lots of posts late at night, or posts that seem erratic in tone, and my readers can check in to see if I may be becoming hypomanic. A long dearth of posts and they can check to see if I've become depressed.

Put simply, the blog is an additional tool by which to manage the disorder. It works because most people are not like Profesor Tribble, at least in terms of his public persona. Prof. T comes across not just as smug but also as rather heartless.

In his more recent essay, Professor T makes the point--I would have thought, a very obvious point--that it is the content of one's blog that matters, and not simply the fact that one keeps a blog. But I don't think he really believes that. If he did, he would not marinate his views in a tone of such general condescension and distaste. Indeed, Prof. T is, in a small way, the Jack Kevorkian of the academic blogging debate. I think the academy needs such a debate, just as our society needed (and still needs) a debate on end-of-life and right-to-die issues. But Kevorkian was an unfortunate choice to spark that debate, and Prof. T is a bad choice to spark this one. I hope the Chronicle of Higher Education makes a better choice next time.


Monday, September 5, 2005 - 04:32

(cross-posted from Blog Them Out of the Stone Age)

After some weeks spent mostly under the radar, Stephen A. Ogden's English 340: First World War Literature students at Simon Fraser University have begun openly posting the URLs to their group blogs. Here are links:

C. S. Forester's The General
A blog discussing C.S. Forester's novel, The General, and its relation to the events, people and ideas prominent before, during, and after the First World War.

Bloody Khaki
Another blog dealing with Forester's The General

Vile Bodies
A blog whose focus is Evelyn Waugh's 1930 novel, Vile Bodies.

EWWW! Vile Bodies
Another blog that focuses--evidently with some squeamishness--on Waugh's Vile Bodies. See also its predecessor blog, In Defiance of Long Novels.

The Sorrows of Satan
A blog dealing with Marie Corelli's 1896 novel, Sorrows of SatanHave a look, learn something, and leave a comment.

Friday, November 25, 2005 - 19:53

The September 11 attacks and the Global War on Terror they triggered are, on the greater scale of things, no big deal.

That's the conclusion of a survey of 354 American history professors undertaken by the Siena College Research Institute (SRI). Asked to rank eight"trying times" in American history-- The Revolutionary War, Civil War, World War I, Great Depression, World War II, Cold War, Vietnam/Cultural Revolution, and the current War on Terror, the War on Terror came in dead last.

The Civil War, my own area of specialization, topped the list. For the other rankings, see the complete story.

Saturday, December 10, 2005 - 08:34

Cross-posted from Blog Them Out of the Stone Age

The recent laments about the stepchild status of academic military history have spurred me toward a project I've had in the back of my mind for some time: an historiographical review of the field. Through the miracle of blogging, I'm not obliged to present this in linear order. Nevertheless, my point of departure occurs fairly early--almost fifty years ago in fact--when historians Arthur A. Ekirch, Jr. and Tyson Wilson squared off at a joint session of the American Historical Association and the American Military Institute (the forerunner of the Society for Military History). The session, entitled"Military History: Pro and Con," took place at the annual meeting of the AHA on December 30, 1956, somewhere in the bowels of the Hotel Sheraton-Jefferson in St. Louis, Missouri.

Thirty-seven year old Richard C. Brown served as chair. A professor at the State University of New York College For Teachers, Buffalo, he had recently produced a 61-page pamphlet, issued the Air University, entitled The Teaching of Military History in Colleges and Universities of the United States. He would eventually revise his 1951 University of Wisconsin doctoral dissertation into Social Attitudes of American Generals, 1898-1940 (Arno Press, 1979).

Ekirch, who passed away in February 2000, was in 1956 a forty-one professor at The American University in Washington, D.C., having studied at Columbia under the great intellectual-cultural historian Merle Curti. Ekirch was drafted during World War II but served out his enlistment in a camp for conscientious objectors. Lawrence S. Wittner, who wrote Ekirch's obituary for the AHA Perspectives, observed that Ekirch, far from home and compelled to perform hard labor," considered himself 'a political prisoner.' For the rest of his life, his personality and views were deeply marked by the experience."

At the time of the AHA/AMI session Ekirch had published three major works: The Idea of Progress in America, 1815-1860 (whose page proofs he corrected while in the camp for CO's), The Decline of American Liberalism (Longmans, Green, 1955) and The Civilian and the Military (Oxford University Press, 1956). A few years hence he would help found the Conference on Peace Research in History, nowadays called The Peace History Society.

Of Tyson Wilson I know much less, save that in 1956 he was on the faculty of the Virginia Military Institute and is today an Emeritus Professor of History with the rank of Colonel. At the time of the session he would have been four years beyond his B.S. from New York University; he would eventually receive an M.A. from Yale University in 1985.

The titles of the two presentations are suggestive:"Military History: A Civilian Caveat" (Ekirch) and"The Case for Military History and Research" (Wilson). Both were published by Military Affairs the following summer; I have supplied stable URLs to each, though you will need access to JSTOR in order to read them online. The traditional citations are:

Arthur A. Ekirch, Jr.,"Military History: A Civilian Caveat," Military Affairs, vol. 21, no. 2 (Summer 1957), 49-54.

Tyson Wilson,"The Case for Military History and Research," Military Affairs, vol. 21, no. 2 (Summer 1957), 54-60.


Wednesday, February 15, 2006 - 16:27

In November 2005, the Internal Revenue Service sent a warning letter to a liberal Pasadena church, averring that an anti-war sermon delivered just before the 2004 election violated IRS guidelines for non-profit organizations. In mid-January 2006, thirty-one central Ohio clergymen signed a copiously documented complaint asking IRS Commissioner Mark W. Everson to investigate two conservative evangelical churches whose promotion of gubernatorial candidate Ken Blackwell, among other things, apparently transgresses IRS rules as well.

So far the religious blogosphere has treated these matters as essentially political in nature: on the one hand, a Republican vendetta against the Pasadena church; on the other, mere"sour grapes" on the part of liberal churches not in sympathy with the goals of the conservative evangelical churches.

But as an historian, I'm curious to know about the origins of the prohibition on electioneering activity by non-profit organizations (I have read that it came at the initiative of Sen. Lyndon Johnson in the mid-1950s, but have not confirmed that). I'm also curious to know whether, during the Civil Rights era, instances arose in which the non-profit status of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference and various anti-segregation churches was challenged because of voter registration drives. If similar guidelines existed in the 1960s, were civil rights-oriented churches careful to observe them, and/or did segregationists level charges of non-compliance as a cudgel with which to beat them?

Any information and insights would be appreciated. You'll find several posts on the Ohio clergy's IRS complaint at my kinder, gentler--and certainly not military--blog, Radical Civility.

UPDATE, February 16, 11:39 p.m. From the OMB Watch (that is, Office of Management and Budget Watch) web site:

Religious, charitable, educational and scientific organizations have been tax-exempt since 1913, although no political activity parameters were included in the first exemption statues. In 1954, however, Senator Lyndon Baines Johnson (D-TX) added the"express prohibition" on political campaign activity—without the benefit of hearings, testimony, or comment from affected organizations during Senate floor debate on the Internal Revenue Code. The amendment prohibits 501(c)(3) organizations from"participat[ing] in, or intervening in any political campaign on behalf of any candidate for public office." The law was eventually applied to churches and now includes all 501(c)(3) organizations.

The genesis of Johnson's desire to reduce 501(c)(3) participation in elections reportedly stems from the great effect nonprofits had in campaigning against him,"by producing Red-baiting radio shows, television programs and millions of pieces of literature”; however, committee records demonstrate a general congressional mood towards increased regulation of nonprofit speech.

Thursday, February 16, 2006 - 23:56

Cross-posted from Blog Them Out of the Stone Age

Continued from Part 1

I assume that, in the AHA/AMI joint session, Arthur Ekirch and Tyson Wilson presented in the same order as the eventual versions that appeared in Military Affairs. If so, Ekirch went first.

Ekirch, be it remembered, had just published The Civilian and the Military, subtitled A History of the American Antimilitarist Tradition -- with which tradition Ekirch seemed wholly in sympathy and which he regarded as having been pretty much the norm for most of American history. Antimilitarism was not, of course, synonymous with pacifism. Session moderator Richard C. Brown had reviewed the book for Military Affairs -- it would appear almost simultaneously with the session -- and he wrote:

The author defines the antimilitarist as one who accepts war and armies as a sometimes necessary evil, but regards a large military establishment and conscript armies, even when needed, as a threat to the preservation of civil institutions of government. . . . He finds that some of our wars, notably the War of 1812 and the Mexican War, were unpopular with many Americans because of our antimilitarist tradition. Much resistance to the Union and Confederate governments during the Civil War was motivated, he believes, by the force of this tradition. Similarly, he shows that our antimilitarist traditions have been responsible for the rapid demobilization of our military establishments at the close of each of our wars. [Military Affairs 20, no. 4 (Winter 1956), 231.]

But with the advent of the Cold War and its attendant policy of military containment, Ekirch saw the twilight of these antimilitarist traditions, and that misgiving permeated his AHA/AMI presentation.

Ekirch began with the observation,"Military history is flourishing," and pointed to a number of indications that this was the case. But, he added, military historians nevertheless displayed"a strange feeling of dissatisfaction" -- which I guess goes to show that this may be a congenital condition among military historians which, since it so far lacks a clinical name, I propose to call Bruscino's Complaint. Bruscino's Complaint evidently went back at least to the 1940s, for Ekirch quoted Gordon A. Craig on the subject, and the quote was arresting enough that I looked it up for myself. It's from Craig's essay on Hans Delbruck in Makers of Modern Strategy (1943):

The military historian has generally been a kind of misfit, regarded with suspicion by both his professional colleagues and by the military men whose activities he seeks to portray.

Ekirch stopped there, but the lines that follow underscore the fact the Bruscino's Complaint is not of recent vintage:

The suspicion of the miliary is not difficult to explain. It springs in large part from the natural scorn of the professional for the amateur. But the distrust with which academicians have looked on the military historians in their midst has deeper roots. In democratic countries especially, it arises from the belief that war is an aberration in the historical process and that, consequently, the study of war is neither fruitful nor seemly. [This prejudice] was felt . . . keenly, throughout his life, by Hans Delbruck. When, as a relatively young man, he turned his talents to the study of military history, he found that the members of his craft too often regarded his specialty as one not worthy of the energy he expended upon it. . . . In his last years, long after he won a secure position in academic circles, he lashed out once again in the pages of his World History at those who persisted in believing"that battles and wars can be regarded as unimportant by-products of world history." (qtd. 282-283)

Bruscino's Complaint was really Delbruck's Complaint.

The total wars of the twentieth century, however, demonstrated to Ekirch that"war can no longer be compartmentalized and shunted off from the main track of normal peaceful society." Military history had become part of the"total historical process." Ekirch regarded this development with disquiet. Narrowly based drums-and-trumpets military history might display much militaristic cheer-leading, but compartmentalized in its hobbyist ghetto, it was unlikely to do much harm.

What worried him was that a number of serious military historians"have added their voices to the chorus calling for a type of military history that is broad in scope and all-inclusive." If heeded, it meant"turning over to them most of our historical writing." As military history broadened its scope, Ekirch thought it would become in effect imperialistic. The sort of military history I advocate in Blog Them Out of the Stone Age would have struck Ekirch not as a needed maturing of the subject as an academic field, but as a potential disaster, and I imagine that he regarded its failure to achieve full-fledged academic sophistication and status to be something of a mercy. This is the paragraph with which he concludes his presentation:

I should like to add that contemporary military history, no matter how honest or scholarly, involves the danger that its very bulk, running the gamut from technical treatise to popular tract, and covering in subject matter affairs far removed from combat or battle history, may result in our literature, as well as our society, being further militarized. . . ." (54)


Tuesday, February 21, 2006 - 09:49

Expired Green Card

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