As someone else said, it was unclear whether we were supposed to blog this week since there were no readings, but given that we had class and had an interesting discussion about things we should all be thinking about, I'm going to assume we are.
Following the discussion from last Wednesday's class, I'm going to write about where I'm at concerning a topic for my thesis project (assuming I decide to go ahead with it).
When I first signed up for this class, I assumed my project would be something about post-WWII labor and economic history. I was interested in the shift from economic upsurge in the 50s and 60s to economic decline since the mid 70s, and particularly in the role that the move toward a more finance-dominated economy played in this change. In one sense, my topic has grown more specific: I've narrowed in on the 1970s as my period of interest given the immense significance of that decade as a transitional period in the US in many ways.
But in other ways I've just grown more uncertain. I've realized how difficult it is to find a way to make large-scale financial history an appropriate field for a 30-40 page research project without having more than a cursory familiarity with statistical economics. Maybe the solution is to focus on a specific institution, but how to choose one and how to relate it to my broader interests is equally unclear. Furthermore, I've become more and more interested in exploring the intersectionality between financial institutions and racial issues, for example the ways that financial domination of the economy has limited access to economic advancement for people of color, as well as the ways that financial tools like debt have been used to shape urban (and national) geographies along racial lines. But once again, sorting through all of this to find a workable thesis topic is daunting.
As a secondary choice for topic, I've considered doing something in labor history, specifically something in the southeast in the 70s. As Dr. Sacco mentioned during our last class, this was the period when industry began moving to the South (both the southern US and the global south) as part of the process of neoliberalization and union-busting, and this had huge significance for labor in both North and South. It would be much easier to find a workable topic along these lines, and even to include race or gender issues. And, given that I'm likely to have a career working in labor in the south, it seems a fitting topic. For some reason, though, the other topical area just seems more interesting to me...but maybe that's shortsightedness.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Week Nine
I intended to write about Che and last week's discussion, but thinking about it I found I just don't have that much to say that wouldn't be forced and redundant. I agree with some of the sentiments expressed in other folks' posts about it being disturbing and frustrating that these (finally unclassified) documents are still heavily censored with black marking and so on. I just don't think I can write a whole post about this.
What I've been thinking about more is the thesis project, graduate school, and next year's research, and so, following Kat, I want to talk about that.
First, graduate school. For a long time I've been moving back and forth on whether I want to go to graduate school and hopefully end up in academia. I've always seen a lot of pros and cons. On the plus side, a tenure-track position is relatively stable and relatively well-paying (especially after tenure). It would allow me a career exploring the things that interest me, and the idea of teaching college level courses is appealing to me. I enjoy reading and writing and so on and I think I'm at least fairly good at these things. But there are a lot of negatives too--tenure-track jobs are becoming increasingly hard to find; five or more years of graduate school does not sound at all appealing when I'm already totally burned out on school; I don't really like the idea of spending many years on a single topic and researching it exhaustively.
Recently, I think I've become fairly confident that I don't want to be a professional academic. The deciding factor in my mind at this point is simply that the life of academia no longer seems very appealing to me. I don't want to be sucked into a world that prioritizes professional standards and institutional correctness above social change and the freedom to explore life. I'm not necessarily saying that these things should not be prioritized in academia (actually, I guess I am, but I don't mean to imply that rigorous standards for research are not important), just that that life doesn't appeal to me. I want to be able to go where I want and do what I want, and have the flexibility to change my mind about how I live my life and make a living at any given time. I don't want to be stuck into a life-long path that is, in its basic structure, pre-determined.
I've always had artistic aspirations as a musician, and recently in film, that I might pursue, but realistically those things are not likely to blossom into a career. More likely I will end up doing rank and file work for a labor union, or staffing for a political organization.
But if I'm not going to graduate school, where does that leave me as far as this research project? I expect I'm not the only one in this class who intends to finish this project but not to enter academia as an historian, and I would like to hear thoughts from others in this camp about why we're doing it. Is it just for our own satisfaction? I think there's definitely some personal benefits to doing this research and finishing a fairly large-scale writing project, but are they great enough to cause us to spend a year of our time devoted to doing it? Or is the reason for doing it primarily to prove credentials--to add to a resume so to speak? I'm trying to figure out what situation this credential would be beneficial in outside of applications to graduate schools in the liberal arts and I'm sortof drawing a blank. Maybe the reason I'm doing it is just because I don't want to eliminate for myself the choice of applying to graduate school at a later time.
I'm not sure of the answers partly because I'm not sure exactly what kind of commitment this will be. I don't really have a clear idea of how many hours per week of my time this research will consume, how much stress it will add to my life. I'm already sacrificing a course I really want to take because it's taught at the same time as the class meeting time for the 407 class, and increasing the overall courseload I have to take next year by at least three credit hours, maybe six. It would be nice to be able to breeze through my last year of school without any major academic stresses, only taking the courses I want to be taking (which I would be able to do since the only requirements I have left to take are within my majors/minor). I've flirted with the idea of dropping the 407 courses, but shied away from it because it somehow seems like giving up or 'chickening out.' But if I can't figure out exactly why I need to write a 40 page research paper, is there anything wrong with not writing it? Maybe I just don't want to be an undistinguished UT graduate without anything special to show for my time as an undergraduate.
What I've been thinking about more is the thesis project, graduate school, and next year's research, and so, following Kat, I want to talk about that.
First, graduate school. For a long time I've been moving back and forth on whether I want to go to graduate school and hopefully end up in academia. I've always seen a lot of pros and cons. On the plus side, a tenure-track position is relatively stable and relatively well-paying (especially after tenure). It would allow me a career exploring the things that interest me, and the idea of teaching college level courses is appealing to me. I enjoy reading and writing and so on and I think I'm at least fairly good at these things. But there are a lot of negatives too--tenure-track jobs are becoming increasingly hard to find; five or more years of graduate school does not sound at all appealing when I'm already totally burned out on school; I don't really like the idea of spending many years on a single topic and researching it exhaustively.
Recently, I think I've become fairly confident that I don't want to be a professional academic. The deciding factor in my mind at this point is simply that the life of academia no longer seems very appealing to me. I don't want to be sucked into a world that prioritizes professional standards and institutional correctness above social change and the freedom to explore life. I'm not necessarily saying that these things should not be prioritized in academia (actually, I guess I am, but I don't mean to imply that rigorous standards for research are not important), just that that life doesn't appeal to me. I want to be able to go where I want and do what I want, and have the flexibility to change my mind about how I live my life and make a living at any given time. I don't want to be stuck into a life-long path that is, in its basic structure, pre-determined.
I've always had artistic aspirations as a musician, and recently in film, that I might pursue, but realistically those things are not likely to blossom into a career. More likely I will end up doing rank and file work for a labor union, or staffing for a political organization.
But if I'm not going to graduate school, where does that leave me as far as this research project? I expect I'm not the only one in this class who intends to finish this project but not to enter academia as an historian, and I would like to hear thoughts from others in this camp about why we're doing it. Is it just for our own satisfaction? I think there's definitely some personal benefits to doing this research and finishing a fairly large-scale writing project, but are they great enough to cause us to spend a year of our time devoted to doing it? Or is the reason for doing it primarily to prove credentials--to add to a resume so to speak? I'm trying to figure out what situation this credential would be beneficial in outside of applications to graduate schools in the liberal arts and I'm sortof drawing a blank. Maybe the reason I'm doing it is just because I don't want to eliminate for myself the choice of applying to graduate school at a later time.
I'm not sure of the answers partly because I'm not sure exactly what kind of commitment this will be. I don't really have a clear idea of how many hours per week of my time this research will consume, how much stress it will add to my life. I'm already sacrificing a course I really want to take because it's taught at the same time as the class meeting time for the 407 class, and increasing the overall courseload I have to take next year by at least three credit hours, maybe six. It would be nice to be able to breeze through my last year of school without any major academic stresses, only taking the courses I want to be taking (which I would be able to do since the only requirements I have left to take are within my majors/minor). I've flirted with the idea of dropping the 407 courses, but shied away from it because it somehow seems like giving up or 'chickening out.' But if I can't figure out exactly why I need to write a 40 page research paper, is there anything wrong with not writing it? Maybe I just don't want to be an undistinguished UT graduate without anything special to show for my time as an undergraduate.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Week Eight
I'm really tempted to comment on the discussion that has already started about Che, but I think I'll wait til after the class where we discuss the readings on Che to do so in detail--unless I am confused about what was discussed in the last class. I wasn't there, but according to the syllabus the discussion should have been on the conquest of Mexico, correct? And this week should be Che? Also, is it this week and next that are being switched on the syllabus (making this the week off and next week the Che discussion)?
Anyway, I do want to comment on the idea of not taking sides during the Cold War and the association of Che's beliefs with the Soviet side of that 'war.' I think it's very misleading to think of the Cold War as an ideological battle between capitalism or democracy (or "freedom" if you're nauseatingly idealistic enough to phrase it that way) and communism. It was a struggle for hegemony between two world powers, neither of which was truly guided by an ideology that it thought was best for the common folk. Both the US and the USSR were imperialist powers motivated by the desire for more power. Much of the rhetoric of the Cold War, from both sides, was just propaganda intended for domestic political benefit. The US is as terrible an example of democracy as the USSR is of communism. We should view both as historically situated powers with a political agenda, not as proxies for contrasting political projects.
The contradictions here are particularly striking when you realize that the supposed justification for "battling communism," namely to preserve freedom and democracy, was the same justification for the struggles of Che and other Latin American revolutionaries. Arguably, the Cuban Revolutionaries were genuine about this project and the US military was not. Che and co. were not waging a revolutionary war to support the Soviet side of an international struggle, they were waging a war against oppression and imperialism and fighting for freedom and equality. The record of post-revolutionary Cuba is of course mixed, as is the record of every nation in the history of the world, but overall the revolution brought a dramatic increase in the standard of living as well as the level of freedom, equality, and democracy for Cubans. This improvement is especially staggering when you consider the massive efforts by the West to prevent the project from succeeding. To suddenly have what used to be your most important trading partner, and all of that partner's allies, suddenly cut off all relations, and still to effect dramatic improvements, is downright remarkable. Props to Fidel.
When Marx was writing in the mid and late nineteenth century, he was doing so in opposition to cruelty and oppression and with the aim of creating a better society in which workers--meaning, ideally, all people--would not be ruled over by a tyrannical few but would share power and resources more or less equally. The phrase "dictatorship of the proletariat" refers to the joint rule of the entire working class, not to a single dictator who is supposed to rule in lieu of said working class. Sad, then, that we now simply dismiss this alternative vision to capitalism by pointing to the Soviet Union--a political entity on the opposite end of the spectrum from most everything Marx stood for--and saying "look, that didn't work." Of course it didn't work, but it didn't work because the revolution was betrayed and turned into a corrupt authoritarian regime. That's a failure of tyranny, not of communism. The Cuban case is similar in that it resulted in the rule of a single leader, but unlike Stalin, Castro was repeatedly elected by overwhelming majorities and, also unlike Stalin, Castro's rule dramatically improved the conditions for the people of his country (excepting, of course, those people who had previously been the exploiters and who now live in luxury in the US and complain about the evils of the revolutionary regime in Cuba). We should be skeptical of all centralized power and not let revolutionaries off the hook for their fuck ups just because they wave the right flag, but that doesn't mean it makes sense to conflate any given revolutionary project with the Soviet Union just because the word "communism" has been applied to both. That's far from a fair treatment of independent historical subjects.
Anyway, I do want to comment on the idea of not taking sides during the Cold War and the association of Che's beliefs with the Soviet side of that 'war.' I think it's very misleading to think of the Cold War as an ideological battle between capitalism or democracy (or "freedom" if you're nauseatingly idealistic enough to phrase it that way) and communism. It was a struggle for hegemony between two world powers, neither of which was truly guided by an ideology that it thought was best for the common folk. Both the US and the USSR were imperialist powers motivated by the desire for more power. Much of the rhetoric of the Cold War, from both sides, was just propaganda intended for domestic political benefit. The US is as terrible an example of democracy as the USSR is of communism. We should view both as historically situated powers with a political agenda, not as proxies for contrasting political projects.
The contradictions here are particularly striking when you realize that the supposed justification for "battling communism," namely to preserve freedom and democracy, was the same justification for the struggles of Che and other Latin American revolutionaries. Arguably, the Cuban Revolutionaries were genuine about this project and the US military was not. Che and co. were not waging a revolutionary war to support the Soviet side of an international struggle, they were waging a war against oppression and imperialism and fighting for freedom and equality. The record of post-revolutionary Cuba is of course mixed, as is the record of every nation in the history of the world, but overall the revolution brought a dramatic increase in the standard of living as well as the level of freedom, equality, and democracy for Cubans. This improvement is especially staggering when you consider the massive efforts by the West to prevent the project from succeeding. To suddenly have what used to be your most important trading partner, and all of that partner's allies, suddenly cut off all relations, and still to effect dramatic improvements, is downright remarkable. Props to Fidel.
When Marx was writing in the mid and late nineteenth century, he was doing so in opposition to cruelty and oppression and with the aim of creating a better society in which workers--meaning, ideally, all people--would not be ruled over by a tyrannical few but would share power and resources more or less equally. The phrase "dictatorship of the proletariat" refers to the joint rule of the entire working class, not to a single dictator who is supposed to rule in lieu of said working class. Sad, then, that we now simply dismiss this alternative vision to capitalism by pointing to the Soviet Union--a political entity on the opposite end of the spectrum from most everything Marx stood for--and saying "look, that didn't work." Of course it didn't work, but it didn't work because the revolution was betrayed and turned into a corrupt authoritarian regime. That's a failure of tyranny, not of communism. The Cuban case is similar in that it resulted in the rule of a single leader, but unlike Stalin, Castro was repeatedly elected by overwhelming majorities and, also unlike Stalin, Castro's rule dramatically improved the conditions for the people of his country (excepting, of course, those people who had previously been the exploiters and who now live in luxury in the US and complain about the evils of the revolutionary regime in Cuba). We should be skeptical of all centralized power and not let revolutionaries off the hook for their fuck ups just because they wave the right flag, but that doesn't mean it makes sense to conflate any given revolutionary project with the Soviet Union just because the word "communism" has been applied to both. That's far from a fair treatment of independent historical subjects.
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