From NPR's All Things Considered: April 23, 2009

The segment begins, "Thirty-eight years ago this week . . ."

Senator John Kerry this week chaired the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, the same committee he once stood before, voicing his opposition to military action in Vietnam. A different war, a different time, a remarkable juxtaposition. History, or perhaps our desire to see patterns and construct narratives, certainly lends itself to poetics.

In hearing the excerpted testimony of the Afghan war veterans, I was most affected by the testimony and perspective of Ret. Army Capt. Wesley Moore:

"We are under-funded and under-manned in Afghanistan. [. . .] We have fought this war on the cheap, and I say that not only on the military side, but particularly on the civilian support side and the reconstruction side” (1:46).

Put simply, I am continually humbled by reminders that domestic perceptions—public opinion—and support for our military personnel matters to those serving. It is a small but significant revelation I’ve seen not just here, in Capt. Moore’s testimony, but in reading veterans’ memoirs and accounts of combat and in talking with veterans. It is one thing to say “support our troops”; it is quite another to understand what that means to active duty servicemen and women.

Capt. Moore also notes that our forces are dealing with

“insurgents who were not Taliban for cause, but Taliban for hire”(2:24),

offering, to my mind, more than sufficient justification for President Obama’s decision to commit more troops and funds to the cause in Afghanistan.

Opinions on the war aside, with this particular moment—this senate hearing—I am struck, once again, by the way historic moments often transpire quietly, simply, in footnotes to the events that demand the national—or international—stage and capture our collective attention. I am also reminded, here, of Chekhov's lines from "The Student":

"'The past [. . .] is linked with the present by an unbroken chain of events flowing one out of another.' And it seemed to him that he had just seen both ends of that chain; that when he touched one end the other quivered."

It is a moment worthy of attention.

The Quandry

aka "The Baby and the Bathwater"

Q: Is it possible to legitimately separate an argument, a thread or a particular claim, from its philosophical and ideological moorings? To appropriate and apply the premise but reject the foundation from which that premise has emerged? What are the consequences? And am I brave enough—or smart enough—to attempt it? To pull it off successfully?

This is a problem I have been grappling with for quite some time, and it is causing both disquiet and stagnation as I attempt to negotiate the problem, as it is always flowing like an underground river through my dissertation.

Specifically, I find objectionable the implicit violence I read in Critical Literacy texts that call for toppling ‘dominant discourses’ and prescribe an activist political stance toward pedagogy. But while I reject the activist forces that drive the movement, I cannot dismiss the value and importance of the conclusions and arguments advanced by Freire and Giroux, among others. I have written about this tension before, going as far to include in a prelims essay the following:

[. . .] critical literacy holds important implications for understanding the complexity of ethos and for theorizing, practicing, and designing pedagogies that operate on the principle of ethical beneficence and its corollary, Primum non nocere.

However . . .

[Critical Literacy] seems, to me, to assume that power is a zero-sum game and that, in its most extreme interpretation, in order for oppressed or marginalized literate traditions to fully participate or access a given discourse, the existing powers must be countered, resisted, or deposed—almost violently. Its calls, either implicitly or explicitly, for radical pedagogical activism, seem to risk overturning existing hegemonies only to replace them with others [. . .]

and . . .

Insofar as I agree with the many of the claims of Critical Literacy, I can’t help but feel somewhat vilified by them. I am torn between my heritage, the values that inform the culture I live, and the desire to ensure that others have equal and just protections extended to them. And I am unsure how to resolve the problem.

I wrote those passages back in the spring and summer of 2007; a year-and-a-half later, I am no closer to reconciliation. Perhaps I’m too close to it, the old “can’t see the forest for the trees” situation. So I’m asking folks who are smarter than I—what say you? Can I legitimately concede, even embrace, the point while rejecting the call to action--or, at least, the recommended course of action?

Is this something you have encountered? A problem with which you have been able to contend?

Carrying the Standard?

An article from today's Politico titled "Out of Alaska, Palin's Star Shines" caught my attention for many reasons, not the least of which is because I am curious about Palin's role in the future of the GOP. Folks often ask my what I thought of Palin's candidacy, and I always offer the same response: I think the selection of Palin to run on the GOP ticket was an impatient choice. In rhetoric, we call this kairos, the opportune or most appropriate moment to advance an argument (in this case, the argument was that the McCain/Palin team held the most promise for leading the country). But my response is mostly influenced by something I've taken from Sun Tzu: that no individual should assume a position of leadership and power before his or her 'time.' And I don't think Palin was ready--she was, and is, politically immature. That is in no way an indictment of her character, intelligence, or ability.

I am sorry to admit that, for quite a while now, I have been saddened by the lack of leadership, service, clear philosophy, and sense of purpose from the party I still consider my own. The members of the party I most respect have said 'no thank you' to the mantle of leadership. And it troubles me, because I do believe in the value of classical liberalism--the very impetus for the party's inception in 1854 and source of inspiration for the nation's founders--and its enduring cogency. I also recognize the importance of understanding the dynamics of a republic and how a democratic republic such as ours provides its own inherent structures of balance. Ours is a graceful and powerful paradigm for governance, and the party system helps to support that paradigm.

But perhaps I digress . . .

In reading Andy Barr's Politico piece, I was most struck by the following:

The Alaska governor received a warm reception from Republican National Committee Chairman Michael Steele, also in attendance, at a news conference ahead of the dinner.

“I think she is a standard-bearer right now,” Steele said. “She and Mitt Romney and Gov. Pawlenty, Gov. Sanford, Rudy Giuliani, Eric Cantor, Mike Pence. We have a significant number of men and women in our party who are in a very good position right now to carry forward the standard of the GOP.”

Mr. Steele, I ask you without a trace of irony, what is this standard you speak of?

As a member of the party and one who routinely defends the GOP, I find I can only defend what the party should stand for, what it has--historically--stood for, but I am still trying to articulate--and even understand--the kind of contemporary standard of which Michael Steele speaks. And without it, it is incredibly difficult to argue the party's purpose, its relevance in the contemporary public forum.

Gen Y and the Promise of a New Polis

I came across this piece this morning as I browsed the news over my morning coffee and shared it with my students over at Engaging the Polis. Given the context of the course, the nature of their research projects, and the fact that my students are perfectly the demographic in question, I thought they would find Jim Burkee's commentary interesting (and yes, I hope it will spark an interesting and meaningful class discussion tomorrow since we have been talking about their roles as members of a polis).

That said, I find Burkee's observations worthy of consideration beyond the classroom, especially when he writes

[ . . .] the political loyalties of that coveted demographic are not yet decided. While they seem to lean to the left, they're actually more libertarian than liberal, a fact that will reshape the way we think about liberalism and conservatism in decades to come. [more]

As one who is slightly 'generationless' or 'on the cusp'--too old for Gen Y, a tad too young for Gen X by the strict sociological classifications--I am excited to think of the ways in which the old political alignments may give way to the new . . . and I wonder at the implications this shift has for the future of our Nation. One thing is certain (at least to my mind): it has been a long time coming.