Exploring Interdisciplinarity

Trying to interpret the political and economic events of the last few weeks, I am reminded of my German classes, in which I struggled to decode German texts that were written in the style of the theatre of the absurd.

Trying to interpret the political and economic events of the last few weeks, I am reminded of my German classes, in which I struggled to decode German texts that were written in the style of the theatre of the absurd. Although many of the first playwriters to work in this genre stemmed from France, and drew upon the existentialist philosophy of Albert Camus, the full range of such authors eventually extended across Europe and the United States. They included playwriters such as Eugene Ionesco, Jean Genet, Edward Albee, and Frederic Durrenmatt, among others.

Waiting for Godot (courtesy of Roger Cummiskey

What constituted them as a group was their shared belief that the world–as it appeared in the wake of the Second World War–was meaningless. Mirroring this perspective, they used the tools of irony and absurdity to make their case theatrically.

While studying German, the absurdist play that impressed me most–and the one that readily comes to mind today–was Romulus the Great, written by the Swiss playwright Frederick Durrenmatt. Described as a non-historic, historical comedy, Romulus der Grosse takes place in the last year of the Roman Empire, when Rome was being overrun by the Ostrogoths–germanic barbarians from the north (476 A.D.). The chief protagonist, the Emperor Romulus, is portrayed as being disinterested and passive in the face of on-coming disaster, preferring to cater to the needs of his chickens rather than the needs of his citizens. Thus, when the leader of the invading troops offered to spare Rome in exchange for the hand of Romulus’ daughter, the Emperor turned down the proposal with alacrity. As his family and colleagues call upon Romulus to take action against the barbarians, he refuses, instead staving the Ostrogoths off with plucked gold leaves from his crown. His wife, daughter, and key members of his entourage flee on a ship, only to die at sea in a raging storm. Romulus, the only survivor, remains in Rome, steadfast in his passivity. How absurd!

Romulus Der Grosse (courtesy of Toni Birrer)

Reading this play, I was grateful when my German Professor–whose name, unfortunately, I cannot recall–provided some meaning to this meaninglessness. As he pointed out, all of Durrenmatt’s plays and short stories are based on an anti-hero–that is a person who, while appearing to be a cad, or mad, has some redeeming graces. As interpreted by Durrenmatt, Romulus is just such a person; presenting himself as unpatriotic, unsympathetic, diffident and disinterested throughout most of the play, Romulus is no fool. Believing the Roman Empire to be decadent, corrupt, and out of touch with its changing environment, he looks to his invading neighbors (who wear pants as opposed to robes) to bring modernity to Rome.

Reckoning with recent current events, which are so out of the ordinary, I wonder: Could President Bush be an anti-hero, much like Romulus? If so, what might be his redeeming graces?

Could President Bush be an anit-hero, much like Romulus? If so, what might be his redeeming graces? 

I can assure you, I am no fan of President Bush, often questioning throughout his administration whether he really had his wits about him. But, then again, I do not think he is mentally deficient. What might make him an anti-hero? Well, as the Washington Post reports in its story Bush’s Shifting Ideology: 2nd Term Markedly Different From 1st. (Saturday, September 20, 2008, p. A 1), President Bush–much like Durrenmatt’s Romulus–appears to have recognized the need for change when faced with disastrous and radically different circumstances. Accordingly–absurd as it might seem–contrary to everything that Conservative Republicans hold dear, Bush has proposed an economic rescue plan that entails the government takeover of some of the Nation’s largest and most influential financial firms, at a cost that surpasses the budget of the Pentagon. Moreover, just as Romulus’ cohorts were befuddled by his behavior, and urged him to take a stand on behalf of the empire, many Republicans today are perplexed by the lame duck president’s suddenly taking a stance so at odds with their entrenched ideology. As former House Speaker Newt Gingrich (R-Ga) characterized the situation:

We have now launched big-government Republicanism. If we saw France do this, Italy do this, we would have thought it was crazy. We would have had pious speaches about the folly of bureaucrats running businesses. (Washington Post, September 20, 2008, p. A10)

Of course, the case of Romulus and Bush are by no means parallel in every detail. Romulus strives to bring about change by destroying the empire; whereas Bush is trying to save the country by challenging the Republican ideology. For me, what makes Bush a potential anti-hero is that, much as in ancient Rome, despite all the incentives to fall back on simplifying ideological cliches, which appeal to the voting public, President Bush–of all people–has finally acknowledged that the world is just not that simple.

Students often ask me how the literature that we read in class relates to the real world that they inhabit. Sometimes it is difficult to explain–so I say, just wait and you will see. For it is only now, some forty years later, that I can appreciate how much my German Professor, and his interpretation of Durrenmatt, has meant to me.

On Technorati: Bush Administration, economic crisis, Frederick Durrenmatt, Republican Party, Romulus the Great, theatre of the absurd

Preparing for my Technology and Society class unveiled an interesting paradox. Looking back from an historical perspective, I was struck by how the term value free science has become a very value ladened word.

looking back from an historical perspective, I was struck by how the term value free science has become a very value ladened word.  

Indeed, this is a curious unintended consequence! For, as the late John M. Jordan documented in Machine-Age Ideology: Social Engineering & American Liberalism (1998), social scientists have, for more than a half century, diligently sought to rid their disciplines of all interpretations and ideological perspectives. As Jordan pointed out, the ultimate goal of these social scientists–which included such luminaries as Thorstein Veblen, John Dewey, Walter Lippman, Edwin Gay, and Herbert Croly, among others–was not only to generate new knowledge, but also, and perhaps more importantly, to enhance democratic politics by replacing ideologically oriented politicians with value free experts.

Backfire (courtesy of Tohoscope)

Assessing the political situation today, one can only say that the efforts of these social scientists clearly backfired. For, while most academics remain standoffish, isolated in their ivory towers creating value free science, politicians–such as John McCain and Sarah Palin–have clearly gone over the top in contending that personal values and personalities trump policy analysis. Equally problematic , in terms of differentiating between facts and ideology, are the growing efforts by today’s political leaders to employ the work of scientists to cloak private interests in what is ostensibly value free analysis

politicians–such as John McCain and Sarah Palin–have clearly gone over the top in contending that personal values and personalities trump policy analysis. 

We seem to have come full circle in this regard. For, not without some irony, today’s opponents of the Administration’s performance disdainfully equate the present government’s science with political science. (Statement of Liz Godfrey, policy director for the Endangered Species Coalition. )

The Bush Administration and Congressional Republicans have been especially pernicious in characterizing scientific studies whose conclusions it opposes as junk science, while labeling those with which it agrees as good science. The Department of Interior’s analyses of scientific data calling for protection of endangered species provides one interesting case in point. For example, according to the Union of Concerned Scientists, which conducted a survey of Fish and Wildlife Scientists in 2005, Julie MacDonald, a political appointee in the Department of Interior, consistently demanded that the Agency’s scientists alter their findings so as to justify not listing imperiled species such as the Gunnison sage grouse, the California tiger salamander, the roundtail chub, Gunnison’s and White-tailed prairie dogs, and the Mexican garter snake. According to one survey respondent:

I have never before seen the boldness of intimidation demonstrated by a single political appointee. She has modified the behavior of the entire agency. I believe that there should be a thorough investigation of her abuse of discretionary authority and modification of science information provided in the FWS documents. (Noah Greenwald, Seattle-Post Intelligencer December 20, 2006)

Such shenanigans are not limited to one Federal Agency. EPA’s former administrator, Stephen Johnson, was also forced to resign, after the union representing the vast majority of EPA scientists accused him of chronic mendacity, information suppression, and overriding his science advisors in setting new ozone standards (Public Employees for Environmental Responsibility Newsletter, Spring 2008). One symptom of this behavior was the Agency’s decision to close half of its libraries, which housed a good portion of EPA’s earlier scientific studies ( PEER Review Winter 2007, p.9). Equally telling was Vice President Chaney’s role–uncovered by the Washington Post–in overriding scientists’ efforts to restore endangered Salmon in the Klamath Basin by redirecting water from the Klamath River, and the fish, to agribusiness. Only after 90,000 fish had died was this decision reversed by the courts.

When it comes to the realm of politics, value free science may not be the goal to strive for. Perhaps what is needed instead is value added science.

Where do we go from here? When it comes to the realm of politics, value free science may not be the goal to strive for. Perhaps what is needed instead is value added science. Building on Habermas’ model of the public sphere, value added science might be conceived of as the product of a dialogue among diverse actors–hard scientists, social scientists, and value based interests alike. However, instead of taking place in local coffee houses, the discussion might be organized and orchestrated within the government itself. A dialogue that links interests and scientific analyses in an open, transparent fashion, adds tremendous value to the political debate while identifying and enhancing the array of subject matter ripe for scientific investigation. This idea is hardly far-fetched. One need only consider the successes of the National Academy of Science and the former Office of Technology Assessment.

On Technorati: Department of Interior, Endangered Species, EPA, Habermas, John M. Jordan, John McCain, Office of Technology Assessment, public sphere, Sarah Palin, social science, value free science

Columbia University Campus (courtesy of PauloGyensfan)

Back in the Sixties, I studied political science at Columbia University. It was a time of considerable turmoil, especially on university campuses. As students coming into maturity in the late fifties and early sixties, we had been imbued with the idea that, by participating, we could make a difference.

I was encouraged in this regard by my efforts in Berlin, New Hampshire,

we had been imbued with the idea that, by participating, we could make a difference.

campaigning with some of my fellow students on behalf of Senator Eugene McCarthy for president. Devoted to the cause, we went Clean for Gene. We slept on church floors, attended local hockey games, trudged from house to house through the snow, shaved our beards, and even put on brassieres. On returning home, we discovered that President Johnson had decided not to run for another term, based on the election returns in Berlin. Never before had we felt so empowered!

Our confidence in participation became somewhat tenuous, however. In the months that followed, we witnessed the shooting of both Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King; the continuing descent of the US into the Vietnam morass; as well as what we perceived as the great betrayal of the 1968 Democratic Convention. Meanwhile, at Columbia, student participation was intensifying, culminating in Mark Rudd and his followers’ siege of the administration and math buildings. In the chaos of the moment, it was hard to know where to take a stand. So, many of us positioned ourselves in the middle ground, that is to say, in a line encircling the math building, between the police and the protesters, opposing the siege but supporting amnesty. To our dismay, the line broke, as the policemen–some on horseback–charged through the crowd and entered the building. Most disturbing to me was the vision of one of our professors–who taught international social forces–being tossed over a hedge; apprehended by the police; and taken to jail.

Most disturbing to me was the vision of one of our professors–who taught international social forces–being tossed over a hedge; apprehended by the police; and taken to jail.

On campus, the response to this eruption was very mixed. According to rumors circulating around campus, a number of our professors stopped speaking to one another, and–as I came to understand it–they did not do so for several years. These tensions were mirrored in heated disputes among students walking on the quad, engaging in the classroom, and debating over lunch. At issue, first and foremost, was what, in a democracy, should be the limitations on participation. And, as a corollary, what role should academics–in particular–play in political affairs? For those of us who aspired to become future scholars within the academy, the burning question was whether or not it was appropriate, or even possible, to be value free in times such as these.

The answer, according to a majority of social science faculty, was to rise above the fray by turning to positive, quantitative analysis. And so it happened. The Department of Public Law and Government, which had a long tradition of performing institutional analysis, changed its name to the Department of Political Science. Mirroring this change at a more global level was the shift in the American Journal of Political Science from qualitative articles to those based on quantitative analysis. Disgruntled rumblings were stirring in another camp, however, where a revolt against scientism and the rise of post-modernism was beginning to take form.

Of course, debates about the proper role of social science have had a long and continuous history, dating back to the origins of sociology, and August Comte, who vigorously called for a new, positive and empirically based science of human behavior. As Bruce Mazlish points out in his contemplative history, The Uncertain Sciences – Comte raised the flag for positivism in reaction to the horror and chaos of the French Revolution. As Comte argued, to search for the real truth, the social sciences had to rise above ideology by mimicking the physical sciences. The complexities of the Industrial Revolution led to a similar effort to simplify the world, in this case by drawing on the lessons of the machine age to develop a science-base management program. Focused on specialization, standardization, and rationalization, the efforts of these social scientists culminated in the automated work place, Taylorism and–as Max Weber called it–the iron cage of bureaucracy. As might be expected, critics redounded ranging from Marx and Nietsche to Rathenau, Mumford and Ellul.

Once again we are, today, confronted with problems of great uncertainty, brought about by increased interconnectedness and speed of interaction on a global scale. Robert Axelrod calls it a complexity revolution. Much as in the past, the scholarly community–when fraught with uncertainty–has tended to remain aloof by simplifying–dividing itself between those who seek to contain the situation through the use of rhetorical and ideological categories and those who seek to distance themselves through abstraction in numbers. However, as Mazlish reminds us, neither perspective can–on it own–address the complexities of an environment in which human beings and natural phenomenon are continually co-evolving. To encompass these interactions, both approaches–the positive and the interpretive–are essential to understanding. Hence, academics, if they are to be relevant, cannot–as in the past–employ reductionism in whatever form to circumvent difficult situations. Rather, they must work together, looking both from within and from without, to gain a more coherent and decisive perspective.

On Technorati: Bruce Mazlish, Columbia, complexity, Interdisciplinarity, interpretive social science, positivism, the Sixties