The title of a recent article in the Chronicle of Higher Education declares that "college makes students more liberal but not smarter about civics." The evidence for this claim comes from a study that found students were leaving college without significant information about U.S. political history, cultural institutions, foreign relations, and the market economy. While I recognize the value of these questions (I teach such subject matter as Lincoln's Gettysburg Address and Martin Luther King, Jr.'s "I Have a Dream"), I'm not sure that we should limit civics education to historical knowledge. In fact, this knowledge matters little if students do not know how to implement civic education in their own way.
What is troubling in this regard is the study's implication that teaching critical thinking is problematic. For example, the study included a section under the heading "Additional Finding: How College Teaching Alters the Public Beliefs of Professors." As the report notes, "If two people share the same basic characteristics, the one who has taught at the college level is more likely to agree that:
• America corrupts otherwise good people; • The Ten Commandments are irrelevant today; • Raising the minimum wage decreases employment; • Educators should instill more doubt in students and reject certainty; and • Homeschooling families neglect their community obligations."
Despite the shaky causal logic here (how do we know teaching college causes these beliefs rather than, say, these beliefs causing one to become a college teacher?), the study suggests that these views should not be taught in the classroom because college professors are outliers, beyond the domain of "normal" belief. While I can understand why some of these are not "desirable" beliefs to teach our students, I believe that doubt and dissent are crucial to civic education. Especially in the domain of communication, where so much relies on interpretation of the participants, it is not only impossible to teach certainty but also undesirable as it would suggest rigid rules or guidelines where a world of contingency exists. There is not a single account of what the "message" in MLK's Dream speech is (see Appendix A, question 16 in the study). Moreover, it does a disservice to our students to suggests that there is a certainty in that regard.
Critical thinking and media literacy are, and should continue to be, important elements of our curriculum so we might encourage students to not accept messages on face but consider the larger (persuasive) implications of them. In my mind, this education better prepares students for their role as citizens--by enabling them, for example, to recognize the strategic elements of campaign advertisements prior to voting or to use their communication skills as advocates for social change--than teaching them the answers to the questions on this survey. Ultimately, I know the value of learning historical U.S. information but I'm reluctant to accept it as the only or even best way we teach and measure civic education.
Obama has presented us with a very “American” State of the Union address, in which he has clearly appealed to core values of our society. Moreover, Obama’s concluding remarks about the kind of change he wants is the sort of vision that we have come to expect from him. Although an obligatory part of the State of the Union, Obama’s celebration of citizens—by discussing the personal conversations and experiences that drove him to run for office, campaign for health care reform and, in general, to not quit—was more than the typical “this is what America stands for”; His telling of these experiences uses the memory of his campaign (he even notes the campaign slogan, “change we can believe in”) as a way of inviting an emotional connection from the audience, asking them to recognize how he is doing “big things.”
Yet, when it comes to the particulars of those “things,” there were a few contradictions worth noting.
First, there’s the issue of blaming. Obama’s discussion of the “tone” of politics in the United States is a welcome addition that moves beyond typical bipartisanship pandering to a focus on the goals and purposes of Congressional officials, namely what it takes for leadership. Near the end of his speech, Obama (possibly in an attempt to moderate critiques that he has not fulfilled his promises) was critical of those “in public office” who “[play] it safe and avoid telling hard truths and [point] fingers.” Yet, as one might have expected, Obama pointed his finger multiple times at Bush: he noted early in the speech that the problems plaguing America were there when he took office; later in the speech he explained the deficit in place “before [he] walked in the door” of the White House; and, in explaining the bank bailout that “we all hated,” he slipped into the speech, almost unnoticed, how this was not his idea but rather that he “supported the last administration’s efforts to create the financial rescue program.” If we cannot direct our hatred towards him, where does it go?
Second, there’s the issue of the bandwagon, of justifying conclusions on popularity alone. In justifying his bank bailout, Obama claims he will not do what is popular but what is necessary. The bailout, he argues, slowed the meltdown that would have exacerbated the economic crisis, illustrating it was warranted. Yet his appeals to unity throughout the speech suggest that agreement, for the sake of unity, is paramount. Moreover, his particular justification for health care reform was based solely on the popularity of that policy: “I want everyone to take another look at the plan we've proposed. There’s a reason why many doctors, nurses, and health care experts who know our system best consider this approach a vast improvement over the status quo.” Mr. President, if you wanted people to understand what’s necessary and not what’s popular, you should tell us what that reason is. Why is your health care reform bill the best (rather than simply something experts like)?
Finally, there’s the issue of diplomacy. Obama’s foreign policy has been controversial, to say the least. For this reason, it seems surprising that his speech spent so little time discussing it. The omission of his efforts at reaching out to the Muslim world through his Cairo speech and his winning the Nobel Peace Prize are, in my mind, quite conspicuous. This is even more troubling when one considers the standards that he does invite the audience to use in judging his foreign policy. In a part of the speech that seemed like a relic of the Bush era, Obama touted the power rather than partnership efforts of the United States. Consider, for instance, the point that the number of terrorists that “have been captured or killed” in 2009 is “far more than in 2008.” That’s how you want us to measure your foreign policy success? What happened to the platitudes in your Cairo address that focused on mutual responsibility and trust? I appreciate the two paragraphs about engagement abroad but even those are used as part of a realist game to isolate North Korea and Iran. The contradiction here is not internal to the speech but rather external, to the kind of vision in foreign policy that Obama professed on the campaign trail and demonstrated during his major foreign policy actions. Even the machismo about America as number one, evident in his new “new deal” with its focus on “building the infrastructure of tomorrow” (why should China or Europe have faster trains than us?), maps onto narratives about American progress and manifest destiny that have encouraged other nations to view us with suspicion.
I’m being a bit hard on him, I know, but it is largely because his promises have set the standards by which he will be judged. He recognizes this in the speech when he notes that people have told him his agenda is “too ambitious.” Yet the question he poses to those critics—“How long should America put its future on hold”—does a good job moving the speech into the more widespread reforms apart from the economy. There are other things to praise in this speech as well. His use of personal anecdote continues a powerful means of support that the audience can’t really disprove. Moreover, his argument that energy efficiency should be pursued regardless of what one believes about climate change was a great way to transcend the debate and provide an alternative rationale for independence in this area. Overall, I thought he did a good job outlining an agenda that rises above partisan lines but he needs to figure out a way to walk the tightrope without getting tangled up in contradictions.
On the recommendation of a friend, I decided to give a serious watching to the new TV show Modern Family, a program that chronicles (in mockumentary style) the interactions between an extended family. Having been amused by the program early on, I fell off the wagon because I believed the show was too "modern." By that, I mean the program exemplified the common connotation of the adjective "modern," as a proxy for nonfunctional or "messed up" (consider, for instance, modern art or modern fashion). What is more, most things "modern" revel in their messed-up-ness; the moment of subversion is often a self-aware moment, as if the modern object knows it's doing something groundbreaking and subversive. Yet Modern Family is just one of a litany of television sitcoms in recent decades to feature dysfunctional, or "modern," family life.
Consider this in contrast to the 1980s, the decade of ideals. If one wanted to learn about family life in these United States, they had a unique beacon of wisdom: the situational comedy, or sitcom. Sitcoms like Family Ties, Growing Pains, and Full House taught us important lessons each week as family members overcame their differences to reconcile their problems in the span of 25 minutes.
Slowly, however, through the 1990s and into the new millennium sitcom programming attempted to chronicle ordinary rather than idyllic family life. Programs like Roseanne still dealt with family themes but Roseanne handled her three children in ways that would make Danny, Uncle Jesse, and Uncle Joey shrink in horror. Instead of treating her children with respect as one would treat a fellow adult, Roseanne enabled her children by acting childish in response. If only DJ Conner were more like DJ Tanner, Roseanne might not have needed to sink to such levels.
Vice President Dan Quayle even criticized Murphy Brown in 1992 as a poor example of family values for the way the title character was an unwed mother devoted to her career. This kind of selfishness became a staple of programs and propelled Seinfeld to the top of the charts as each character (who was too selfish to settle down and start a family) was out for his- or herself, often with humorous and interconnected results.
All this relates to Modern Family because the program seems to join this larger trend. Yet the twist in this "modern" tale is that parents should look to their children as benchmarks of maturity and wisdom. Indeed, the children show moments of self awareness beyond their age whereas the adults on the show tend to be self-indulgent and regressive. Consider, for instance, episode 12, "Not In My House," aired on January 13. In the opening moments of this episode, the young husband (Phil) lets the his son, Luke, take the blame when his wife (Claire) finds a picture of a topless woman on the computer. The truth of who downloaded the picture is only revealed near the end of the episode when Luke denies have looked at it, claiming "It wasn't me! That's gross, I'm ten [years old]!" By process of elimination, Phil is required to come clean. In this same episode, Luke approaches Claire to admit with shame that he looked at his sister's diary. Luke's actions show a willingness to admit fault, a quality that he certainly did not learn from his father; Phil explains that the picture was sent to him to by a buddy and lovingly tells his wife "I don't do that stuff. You're all the porn I need." Arguably the most dynamic character of the series, the one that challenges the stereotypes the most, is Manny Delgado, the pre-teen son of the latina. He has "adult" conversations with people, prefers fencing as his sport, and often looks with bemusement (and occasional scorn) on the childishness of his relatives. This character is in contradistinction to the adult characters that fit their stereotypes: the gay couple is flamboyant, the young husband is metrosexual and a failure in his attempts to be "hip," the housewife is harried, the latina is passionate (which works well with her heavy accent), and the old man is a grouchy womanizer. Perhaps I'm being too hard on this show. Perhaps it's just entertainment designed to make us feel better about the normalcy of our own lives. Yet I do not suspect that this is the case. I fear that the lessons from Modern Family are more a reflection, rather than rejection, of reality. However, hope may exist for those who believe postmodern philosopher Jean Baudrillard. He theorized that television is a simulation of reality in which media consumers substitute the symbols they see in the media for reality such that the images become the standard by which reality is judged. If this is true, then programming that returns to "pre-modern" models of family, featuring functional communication and conflict resolution skills, might be a way to improve American society and reduce selfishness as a guiding feature of interpersonal interaction.
I had my undergraduate students watch the early 1950s Civil Defense film Duck and Cover last week in class. A number of them were laughing out loud at the absurdity of the video's premise that you should simply "duck and cover" (and perhaps shield yourself with a blanket or jacket) to protect yourself from the fallout of an atomic bomb. They quickly recognized how this video encouraged constant fear in the face of nuclear holocaust at the same time it oversimplified the threat of the atomic bomb to make it a more "manageable" reality, especially for the film's primary audience of school children.
Yet my students' reactions to this video made me wonder: what contemporary messages will students 60 years from now, in the year 2070, find quaint and amusing? Perhaps our current attempts at finding alternative fuels will, to them, seem like nothing more than an attempt to "duck and cover" from impending global climate change as events like those in Haiti last week become more and more common. Or perhaps the bailout, "cash for clunkers," etc. are nothing more than a "duck and cover" scheme to slow an inevitable recession that leads us into the dystopian future we've seen in the movies. I know I'm being a Debbie Downer in this post but I always get suspicious when students so clearly recognize the rhetorical strategies of media that don't target them while ignoring the implications of the messages that surround their own lives.
After an embarrasing six-month absence following just two posts, I have returned with a concerted intention to participate more frequently in this blog.
Perhaps those seeking more from Obama on the Iranian election might better understand his noninterventionist stance by considering his interview with reporters following his speech in Cairo on June 4:
"And my message to that young man or that young woman would be, it is possible for you to be true to your faith, true to your traditions, but instead of destroying, you can build. And if you see injustice, then the way to achieve the changes you seek is not through violence, but is through persuasion. And if I reach a few of those 20-year-olds, or I reach their parents and maybe they have a conversation and debate with those young men and women, then perhaps that can make a difference when somebody tries to recruit that person to join an extremist organization" (p. 9).
Obama seems to be supporting a liberal public sphere characterized by rational debate and discussion. From this perspective, encouraging the protesters might not be the kind of "persuasion" that he believes will bring change. I'm inclined to agree with him that, if we support democratic reforms, the best way to do that is not to intervene and oversee the efforts but to encourage open and fair dialogue between the two sides.
The title is an homage to Walter Lippmann's book The Phantom Public. As a scholar and professor of rhetoric, I don't share his pessimism regarding the value of public deliberation but I do understand his frustration regarding the expectations of omnicompetent citizenship. This blog is my attempt to be less of a "phantom" and contribute something to the larger conversation. My guess is that few will read this blog but, as my graduate advisor might say, the manner in which I enact the blog is more important to democratic citizenship than the power and reach of the blog itself.
