This past week the roof collapsed on my professional life. You’re tottering along, a bit woozy but still standing, minding your own business, dreaming of the summer which is right around the corner, there’s a lightening of the mood and the weather begins, gradually, ever so subtly, to turn, you decide to open your storm windows, you go for a walk in a “Fall” jacket, and then, in the words of the annoying cleaning commercial: KABOOM!
In short order, I woke up from my honey-colored dream of lazy summertime barbeques and short pants and sultry Big Eastern City days and nights with Mr. Gordo to discover several outstanding bill collectors on the phone: a conference paper due forthwith (like yesterday!), students clamoring for extra credit work because they bombed your midterm, the usual meetings and minute-taking, long-postponed paperwork rearing up, not to mention tax time and the suddenly desperate need to see your CPA before he himself is overwhelmed. But by far the most demanding task at hand has been the need to write my year-end report on activities for my dean, the time for which I severely underestimated because this is my first year at this particular college. So underestimated, in fact, I didn’t even know it was due, until I received (again, out of the blue), a polite note from my chair. I fear I am becoming the very model of the bumbling professor who forgets his car keys in the refrigerator.
In essence, my “book report” is a catalogue of my activities in the three well-known subject areas: research, teaching, and service. And there is a certain empirical quality to the task that is reassuring: Yes, Virginia, you are exhausted for a reason! Committees and meetings, abstracts and conferences, works-in-progress and works forthcoming, student evaluations and syllabi, e-mails and phone calls, lectures and events. I have been, um, busy this year, contrary to the stereotype of the academic as social parasite, so eloquently paraphrased by my girlfriend La Connaire tonight who said, “I thought the whole point of academia was not working hard,” followed by the sound of a stream of smoke blown into the telephone mouthpiece. As most academics would tell you, the stereotype bears little relationship to the reality of most tenure-line professors. However, this cataloguing of the minutiae of quotidian academic life has gotten me to think of the differentials in experience for faculty across the broad spectrums of race, gender, and sexuality.
As a professional, I obviously covered the unholy trinity with some aplomb, if not utter success in all three. Given what has been thrown at me this year in terms of workload, I feel I did very well, as undoubtedly will my dean, who has been nothing if not incredibly supportive. However, the differential I am thinking about here is the double duty that faculty of color, some women faculty, and some lesbian or gay faculty, perform in their role as symbolic capital for the profession. For we are not only meant to perform as scholars and teachers and colleagues, we also have to be role models and mentors and supportive persons, lifting as we climb, each one teaching one, until we reproduce ourselves like some sort of crazy neo-Fabergé Organics Shampoo commercial.
This notion of symbolic capital is one that is both forced upon us by institutions looking for the diversity fix, and nurtured within ourselves, by varying degrees of gratitude, guilt, regret, and sadness at the price of our success. We are the best and the brightest, the cream of the crop, those who struggled and worked, only to find ourselves marooned as tokens whose value is unclear, both to ourselves and the profession we serve. I am reminded of Toi Derricote’s story in The Black Notebooks, of meeting the “other” black woman professor at the college were she taught, only to discover that this woman was as light-skinned (i.e. completely passable as white) as Derricote herself, and how this causes a crisis in her thinking about why they were hired, and what is the symbolic value of having two black faculty members who look white?
Ironically, tonight in my race class, upon discussing with my students Fanon’s The Fact of Blackness, my eyes fell on this quote:
It was always the Negro teacher, the Negro doctor; brittle as I was becoming, I shivered at the slightest pretext. I knew, for instance, that if the physician made a mistake it would be the end of him and of all those who came after him. What could one expect, after all, from a Negro physician? As long as everything went well, he was praised to the skies, but look out, no nonsense, under any conditions! The black physician can never be sure how close he is to disgrace. I tell you, I was walled in: No exception was made for my refined manners, or my knowledge of literature, or my understanding of the quantum theory.
To which all I have to say is: Ain’t it the truth? Faculty of color can never be sure how close we are to disgrace, to the knife-edge of outliving our usefulness, our symbolic capital. Seemingly, we can never be appreciated as intellectuals alone. We must always have some other value, some point to our presence, aside from simple qualification. We must be, in the truism, 200 percent good. And never, ever, make a mistake, for it's not just our personal mistake, but a mistake for every person of color, past present and future. If we simply think of this differential in terms of labor, then perhaps the contours will come more sharply in focus.
While I appreciate my white colleagues for the support they provide, they are not expected to “liaison” with Latina/o students and student organizations. They are not expected to be role models of appropriate behavior. They are not expected to be present at every little thing that might concern race, whether interesting or not. They are not expected to be experts at the drop of a hat, nor responsible to others of their same race who might have particular critiques of authenticity for which they have to answer. No, my beloved white colleagues get to be themselves, be individuals, and go home and sleep soundly. So for me, this is not only about the incredibly problematic racial dimensions of role modeling or each one teaching one. This shit is also about work, cause believe me, this is work.
As any faculty of color, nay person of color, could tell you in an unguarded moment, the illusory community fostered by 60s social movements is exactly that: fleeting and utopian. Academics of color in particular suffer from the vertiginous histories of racial trauma that are predicated on the unintelligibility of the subject of color: the very fact of our theoretical stupidity. Living in a post-race society means that we are finally, blissfully allowed to be ourselves, individuals in a society that prizes individualism. Needless to say, we aren’t there yet.
And then, as I am thinking about this and taking a break from writing this post and perusing the Internet while wolfing down a quesadilla, I come across this little ditty, which linked from here, both of which sadly and ironically prove my point. The most inflammatory quote from Michael A. Livingston’s post on race and law school faculty is a bombshell:
Because it is so costly to dip below the required minimum of diversity faculty, in practice almost anything has to and is done to ensure that they are happy. At my school, I have watched sadly as one after another of the unwritten faculty rules -- the level of publication expected, the expectation that one's work would be presented to the faculty before tenure, even the assumptions regarding physical presence at the law school -- were compromised or abandoned to accommodate female or minority candidates who the law school simply could not "afford to lose" under the new dynamic. Once these principles are given away, of course, the same concessions are demanded by other professors, so that the entire system of expectations that cements a faculty begins to come crashing quickly down.
Good grief! So not only are we not smart enough to be hired on “merit” (the odious false consciousness of the late 20th and early 21st centuries, apparently) but we also simultaneously threaten the very foundations of the institution. For as tenuous a hold as faculty of color have in the profession, we seem to wield an incredible amount of power in Livingston's analysis. While it is true I have known some "playas" (as in players, not beaches) who have worked out some pretty impressive deals on next to nothing, by far the vast majority of the professoriate of color (and professoriate in general) works, day in and day out.
In fact, faculty of color are incredibly vulnerable not only through the typical utilitarian nature in which they are hired (as tokens) but also to the risible racism and real disgust revealed in Livingston’s quote. If anything, Livingston’s critique reveals more about the unscrupulous ways in which institutions will go out of their way to hire "dummies of color" to avoid hiring contrary to racist type (e.g. with intelligence) than the general qualifications of a vastly diverse class of people, who after all have earned doctorates and J.D.s, right? If we trace Livingston’s critique to where it originates, this isn’t just a critique of hiring and retention practices, it is questioning the very ability of people of color to hold advanced intellectual and professional degrees. And people wonder why race is still important?
The evidence is writ before you in Livingston’s post. Race still matters, and not only for red state academics or conservatives, for liberals and leftists hold similar, if more holistic, views. The black physician can never be sure how close he is to disgrace. One wrong move, and you’re toast, baby!
Self-assessment is hard, this I know after struggling with it this past week. But it might be time for the profession to take a real self-assessment of its own. For instance, when, if ever, will faculty of color be real intellectual members of the community, and not just tokens of diversity and tolerance? When will the university and its faculty and administrators stop considering us as detriments to its intellectual mission? Why, if universities are so committed to "diversity," can't they sustain and support faculty of color in double or triple digits? When can we stop the fiction of pretending just because student X is “brown” and I’m “brown,” we automatically understand each other, like dolphins? When, in other words, will our years and years of labor be appreciated for what it is, hard and good and honorable work? When, in other words, shall we breathe the fresh, clean air of individualism, which includes the noble as well as banal? When can we be normal, neither Sydney Poitier nor Step ‘n’ Fetchit? Not, apparently, any time soon.
Oso Raro, who is writing under a pseudonym, teaches cultural studies, literature and film at a North American university. A version of this essay first appeared on Oso's blog, Slaves of Academe, which concerns itself with academe and racial and cultural politics.
Submitted by Alex Golub on April 17, 2006 - 4:00am
As a Jewish professor, I know that it is my lot in life to deal with stereotypes of Jewish academics. As a Jewish professor from California, dealing with these stereotypes is even more difficult because I lack recourse to the solution favored by many colleagues: acting as if the complex negotiation of my identity can be accomplished simply by assuming that "Jewish" means "from New York" and leaving it at that. As a Jewish professor from California who teaches in Hawaii, navigating my identity as a practicing Reform Jew, both in the classroom and out, has taken many surprising twists and turns.
Oxford University Press's Judaism: A Very Short Introduction notes astutely that Jews, like tomatoes, are neither "particularly complicated or obscure when left to themselves, but they don't neatly fit into the handy categories such as fruit or vegetable or nation and religion which are so useful for pigeonholing other foods and people." Growing up in northern California, I went to a high school where the blanket term "Asian" was scrupulously decomposed into a wide variety of ethnicities, which included not just Chinese, Japanese, and Korean, but Hmong, Miao, Mien, Lao, Hongkie, Taiwanese, and so forth. When I got lunch at Vang's convenience store, my Thai friend grumbled about "those hill people." But for him, as for me, there was only one kind of white person: the white kind.
It was not until I moved to graduate school in Chicago that I realized that there were different kinds of white people. Growing up in Reagan's America, "Marxism" to me meant a critique of the soullessness of suburban life. Exploitation was not about class -- it was about Mexican-Anglo relations. While I understood that my religion made me different from most people, it didn't seem to make me any more distinctive than the guy in my class whose family had a time-share in Tahoe: I missed a few days of class for high holy days, he missed them for the time share. But living on the south side of Chicago, class became an inescapable fact of life, and "color" meant "black" and "white."
That I could understand. But I was particularly puzzled by religion as a source of social differentiation in America. I traveled to Minnesota and visited small towns, which featured intersections with churches on every corner. Why did the Missouri Synod Lutherans need one church and the Wisconsin Synod Lutherans need another? And how was all this related to the graduate student parties where bizarre passes would occasionally be made at me by women whose complex psychological relationship with novels like Portnoy's Complaint and Ravelstein had driven them out of their dairy-rich farming communities and into the arms of a cosmopolitan intellectualism which they expected me to embody?
My dissertation committee consisted of three Jewish structuralists and a Protestant interested in performativity. The Protestant member of my committee claimed that reading Kierkegaard's analysis of the sacrifice of Isaac through a Derridean lens could help explain nationalism in Indonesia, but this was the closest I actually got to Judaism as a religious phenomenon. Actually that is not true. At one point as I was driving in the car with one member of my committee, she pointed out a kosher butcher shop and told me that that was where another member of my committee went "for really good meat." But that was it -- my committee was alarmed when I suggested that Judaism was not actually synonymous with being an atheist intellectual, or even who knew where to get a pound of lean pastrami.
I originally felt my move to Hawaii would be a sort of homecoming -- a return to the multicultural environment of my childhood and an end to the terrible, terrible cold I had suffered through in the Midwest. In fact I was in for a bit of a shock. Hawaii has a unique local culture derived from the state's legacy of plantation colonialism and its overthrow at the hands of a strong labor movement. As a result Hawaii owes much to the Japanese, Chinese, and Portuguese workers who moved here to cut cane. And of course there is the rich tradition of native Hawaiian culture, which has experienced a renaissance here in the past 30 years. Since the United States has long been the inheritor of Spanish colonialism in the Pacific, our islands are called home by increasing numbers of Chammoro and Filipinos. The growing number of migrants from Samoa and Tonga allows Hawaii to challenge Auckland as the unofficial capital of Polynesia. And there is no doubt that Honolulu -- the forward point for the projection of U.S. political and military power into the Pacific -- has long been a center for Micronesian migration.
Further, Hawaii has one of the highest rates of intermarriage in the country, and the place is remarkably cosmopolitan given its small size and distance from major centers. The result of all this is that my students are more likely to visit Saipan than Schenectady, and know more about Pago Pago than Paris. It soon became apparent that the welcome return to my natal relation to my Jewish identity was not to be had -- and for reasons more enduring than the fact that the Web site for my new shul in Honolulu was "shaloha.com."
A great deal of my Introduction to Cultural Anthropology course involves getting students to rethink ideas of race and ethnicity in light of the anthropological concept of culture. However, I feel very uncomfortable asking my students to objectify themselves in class by asking them "as an Asian, how do you feel about this?" or lecturing my African-American students about supposedly innate black athletic ability. On the mainland I solved this problem by objectifying myself and examining, for instance, stereotypes about Jews. In fact I typically use the tomato imagery from Oxford's Very Short Introduction to Judaism. "So," I said in my first class in the islands, dry erase marker in hand and ready to make a discussion-spurring list, "what are some stereotypes you have of Jewish people?"
"Please," I say generously, "This classroom is a safe place where people can discuss controversial topics civilly, so don't feel you need to spare my feelings. So: what are some stereotypes of Jews?"
Silence. As a new professor I had read countless books and articles exhorting me not to get freaked out if it took a while for someone to say something. But this time I get nothing. Nada.
"How about the idea that Jews are good with money?" I finally offer.
"You mean like they're pake?" asked one confused woman, using a Hawaiian term originally meant to describe Chinese people, but which in local slang simply means tight-fisted.
In this and other classes I quickly came to realize that when it comes to Jews the Hawaiian response to the question of "is a tomato a vegetable or a fruit" is to ask "what's a tomato?" In California, my identity as a Jew wasn't particularly relevant. In Honolulu, I am pretty much off the table insofar as the ethnic imagination of my students goes. All white people were haole -- a Hawaiian word with a slightly derogatory connotations (one of my students wears a T-shirt to class that reads "Haole you flew here I grew here".)
The problem was not just that my students didn't know that I was a tomato, they're often a little unclear on the idea that people must be sorted into fruits and vegetables. To put it another way: it is difficult to expose the culturally-contingent nature of your student's essentialist folk theories of identity when they have names like Motoko Kapualani da Silva or Brian Ka'imikaua Li. This latter student claimed to be "Japanese, Filipino, and Hawaiian." I pointed out to him that his last name was Chinese. He paused and thought about it for a second and then remembered that yes, his family was also Chinese but he had never really thought of "Li" as a Chinese name. By speaking frankly about my own identity with my students I learned that they did not operate with the same concepts of race and ethnicity that my students on the mainland did, and this insight allowed me to teach anthropology in a way that was accessible to them.
Now when I teach my intro class I engage my student's expectations about ethnic difference by approaching some of the aporias of identity in Hawaii. How does the selective retention of taboos and purity laws by orthodox Jews provide a model of how (or how not!) to creatively innovate one's tradition? Why do we speak of Hawaii as a multicultural paradise when there is so much racial tension simmering under the surface? Is the distinction of "local" and "haole" one of race? Of class? What does it mean to talk about "ancient Hawaiian tradition" with a professor whose people lived in diaspora for a millennium before the first Hawaiians arrived in the islands? Why are haole tourists noisy, rude, and overbearing compared to locals? How can we use the concept of culture to render this comportment intelligible?
In sum, living in Hawaii has forced me to rethink not just my own Jewish heritage, but the issue of heritage in general. As an anthropologist I find the challenge of working through these multiple layers of identity and (as we say in the business) “group affiliation” to be both professionally and personally rewarding. And most important of all, it provides my students a chance to grow intellectually by thinking about identity and belonging in ways they may not have before. In the next few semesters I plan to put together a class entitled "Kohen and Kahuna," based on an unpublished manuscript by a Rabbi and sociologist who studied at the University of Hawaii in the 1940s. We will not discuss Woody Allen films or where to get a pound of lean pastrami. We will discuss the comparative study of taboo, social complexity in Polynesia and the ancient Middle East, and anxiety about not being able to chant properly in your heritage language. Shaloha, everyone!
Alex Golub finished his dissertation in anthropology at the University of Chicago in 2005 and is now an adjunct professor at the University of Hawaii at Manoa. He blogs at Savage Minds, a group blog about cultural anthropology.
The following essay was adapted from the author's keynote address at for the Future of Minority Studies Summer Institute Colloquium, at Stanford University last month. Last week, Scott McLemee explored the colloquium in Intellectual Affairs.
Preamble: What Keeps Chancellors Up at Night?
Two years ago I attended a conference of presidents in which among the many panel discussions on American Competitiveness (“The World is Flat” ), Federal Science Funding, The Future of the Humanities, and the like, was one panel entitled: “What Keeps Presidents and Chancellors Up at Night?” Expecting to hear a great deal about the arms race in intercollegiate athletics -- absolutely a genuine concern -- I was rather surprised to hear instead about multiculturalism and what might be called its associated “culture wars.”
Of course, I shouldn’t have been surprised, as there had been so many high profile examples, from the public’s reaction to the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill assigning the Qur’an as its first year shared reading to the media coverage of strife in Middle East studies at Columbia University. Moreover, I had just spent six years defending affirmative action at Michigan and three years in the midst of debates at Illinois on the campus mascot, Chief Illiniwek. Anyone in these positions long enough knows well that universities are like sponges for society’s tensions and that one way or another something will erupt on every campus that reflects the fraying of multicultural community and the state of “civil” society.
Whether it is in athletics or the student media, in the classroom or in campus organizations, tensions over religion, race, ethnicity, and sexuality, are powder kegs on our multicultural campuses -- as they are of course in our cities and towns. As one of my colleagues noted, conflicts, such as occurred at Duke recently, can happen on any one of our campuses in one form or another. At Syracuse, for example, we are overcoming the impact on our campus of the production of an entertainment television show, by a student-run station, that used caricatures of various groups as “humor.” As at Duke, when we go beyond finger pointing, these incidents alert us to our communal responsibilities, and to the work still to be done on our campuses and in our connected communities.
For not being surprised doesn’t mean we can stop talking about it. There is a crying need to take these kinds of incidents -- and they are indeed widespread -- seriously as symptoms of a society that is not comfortable with pluralism. I suggest that we address this state of affairs with the same deep thinking that we give to understanding how to respond to our increasingly “flat world,” for it is as much in our national interest. In fact, I suggest that thoughtful analyses of group dynamics and communal responsibility in a diverse society may actually help us better face the “flat world.” Instead of competitively fighting between ourselves for a shrinking piece of the pie -- whether in higher education or in our connected communities -- shouldn’t we learn to live and work together and find innovations that enlarge the pie? Wouldn’t that get us closer to fulfilling the agenda of universal human rights that lies at the foundation of a just and effective society?
Taking Groups Seriously
Many people’s reaction to these “culture wars” is to suggest that we all just turn our backs on groups altogether -- as when people call for a color-blind or culture-blind or gender-blind society. Not only do I see this as naïve (in the face of pervasive group dynamics and tensions), but also as missing the constructive role that groups must play in promoting a social justice agenda and building an effective multicultural community. Taking groups seriously can be constructive both for those who are on the “outside” trying to get in to a particular community and for those who are more securely established as insiders. This is especially true in a world full of insiders and outsiders -- and we all occupy both positions -- in which as outsiders we could benefit from seeing more personal possibilities (on the inside) and as insiders we could contribute by taking more social responsibility (for those outside). And, like it or not, we need to build effective multicultural communities to be competitive and just, so we better start taking groups seriously.
We first need to recognize some “facts” of social life and the pervasive disparities in our pluralistic, insider-outsider world, and find an avenue to constructively confront them. Here is where it helps to know something about the psychology of multiculturalism (and of insiders and outsiders) and to work with it, rather than remain oblivious to its powerful impact. For, in the midst of this fraying of community, and widening of the gap between those who belong and those who don’t, it is easy to miss the fundamental interdependence of individuals and community. Easy to miss the truth in the oft repeated notion that if we don’t all hang together we will all hang separately.
So, in the hopes of starting this discussion, I turn now, as a social psychologist and educator, but also as a chancellor in charge of a multicultural campus community, to consider why and how we go wrong in our group dynamics, and what we might do differently to face our challenges head on.
The Social Embedding of Individuality
To see how the social embedding of individual human potential -- which I will abbreviate from now on as “individuality” -- works, it is important to start from the premise that self-construals -- who we think we are and what we see as possible for our selves -- matter. But, we do not think about our selves in a social vacuum, either.
Our self-construals are embedded within and shaped by critical cultural practices and social organizations that constitute a matrix of opportunities and constraints in our daily lives. Over the long course of history, for example, numerous different cultures and societies have expressed more concern about the educational and career paths of boys than girls.
These self-construals are also embedded in a matrix of critical interpersonal relations through which we garner diagnostic input from other people about our selves. Other people serve as sources of social comparison, including those whom we take on as models or idols. Importantly, other people play a fundamental role in legitimating our selves -- as we are now and might possibly become -- especially those with some power over us, but also sometimes those peers who provide consensus information about similar experiences.
Social group memberships, particularly those organized around gender, race/ethnicity, religion, sexuality, disability, and nationality, constitute critical influences in most cultures on both the matrix of opportunities and constraints and the input received from others. Of course, individuals personalize their social identities (contrary to an essentialist view of identity politics), by accepting or rejecting group-based constraints and feedback, but nevertheless, their impact is pervasive.
Claude Steele’s elegant demonstrations of stereotype vulnerability document the pervasiveness of these group-based dynamics. For example, as he has shown in laboratory experiments at Stanford, the performance of high achieving women students, including those who consider themselves as analytically smart, can be undermined by simply and subtly invoking gender stereotypes with an off-hand comment about the test measuring analytic ability. There is nothing overt or “in your face” about these experimental manipulations, and certainly nothing that should over-ride a student’s own acknowledged individual performance history. Yet, it is hard to act as an individual, when the “group” lurks in the background.
And beyond the laboratory, our groups often don’t just lurk quietly in the background. This is a media culture in which there is relatively constant attention to and (perhaps inadvertent) promotion of group-based stereotypes of all sorts, in the sports and entertainment arenas, in politics, and, yes, even in the academy. Consider, for example, the flood of media coverage after Larry Summers questioned the capacity of women and girls to be stars in science and mathematics. Even, as in his case, when the marketing of group-based stereotypes comes unintentionally, those who are “marked” by highly visible and/or contested identities find them hard to ignore. Few women scientists had a choice of whether to be scrutinized under those conditions -- their individuality was swept into a tidal pool of issues defined by their “group.”
“Insiders” and “Outsiders” and the Social Embedding of Individuality
However, the social embedding of individuality varies importantly as a function of the “location” of one’s significant groups -- with respect to status, security, and power -- in a particular community. Those whose groups are less well-entrenched in a community -- “outsiders” -- will be more marked by and connected to their group(s) than will “insiders.” By contrast “insiders” operate more easily as “individuals” and feel both less connection to and less identified by their groups.
In turn, this different psychology of insiders and outsiders is readily apparent in different attitudes toward communal responsibility in a diverse and multicultural community. That is, as insiders, we take a great deal, cognitively and socially, for granted in daily life. We engage in cognitive egocentrism, using, for example, our own experience and assumptions as a road-map for making judgments about others, rarely taking into account that they may be operating with a different matrix of opportunities and constraints, and with less of a sense of individuality.
Most specifically, we underplay the level of scrutiny and constraint that is felt by an outsider when his or her group is even subtly or minimally invoked, not to mention derided. The degree to which outsiders’ identities are wrapped up in their group(s) seems almost irrational to an insider, prompting them to question the authenticity of outsider reactions. Frequently, for example, an outsider will be described as “over-reacting,” or being too “pc.” It is extremely difficult for an insider to imagine their individuality so intertwined with their group(s). They simply don’t live a life of “guilt by group association,” and so they are skeptical of and not particularly empathetic to those who do. In turn, by failing to recognize these constraints on individuality and on the freedom to dissociate from the group, insiders miss a lot about the social life of outsiders, and this is a critical impediment to interpersonal trust.
By contrast, the psychology of the insider at least with respect to his or her “visible” groups -- such as race or ethnicity or gender -- is much less explicit or “marked.” For the insider, groups are more about voluntary association, such that they can be held at an “arms length,” especially if something goes wrong. Since, as insiders, we each view ourselves largely as individual actors, it is relatively easy, in good conscience, to distance from the group’s mistakes or the culture of an organization. There is little or no “guilt by group association.” Others may have made a mistake, but “if I didn’t touch it, I didn’t do anything.” Moreover, the insider remains ever on guard against any ill-informed accusations that would implicate him or her in some unfair guilt by association with the (mistakes of others in the) group.
This psychology is, of course, perfectly rational and fair from an individualistic perspective, but not terribly good for building a community in which only some people feel disproportionately “marked” by their groups, unable to just walk away. Surely, we all want to avoid unfair individual blame, but at the same time we should feel some communal responsibility when an organization or group to which we belong ends up hurting others. This should be the case even when no harm was intended and you can’t imagine why they are hurt. This “arms length” relationship to group behavior is another critical impediment to facilitating a broad sense of fairness and interdependence in a diverse community.
“Epistemic Privilege” of the Outsider
While the insider’s gaze is generally away from the group, the outsider instead looks right at it with, what Satya Mohanty and others refer to as the “epistemic privilege of the oppressed.” Outsiders typically see how their group marks them, and how therefore social location matters for what they can do and how they can expect to be treated. Largely, this clarity of vision comes from being in a perpetual state of guardedness and uncertainty, examining the social landscape, always prepared for some group-based challenge.
By contrast, the challenges faced as an insider come less routinely, and relate more to individual comparisons or interactions, one on one, with peers, competitors, idols, and the like. What insiders rarely face head on is some group-based challenge -- direct or subtle -- that they see as constraining who they are or what they (as individuals) can do.
In other words, the outsider lives with the discomfort of epistemic privilege and the insider lives with the comfort of cognitive egocentrism, often oblivious to the effects of social location on others. And, the epistemic privilege of the outsider does not raise the probability of being heard by the insider.
The outsider always has a “theory” about social location in need of some validation. Like any theory, there are multiple avenues for validation. The outsider can spend time with other group members, sharing experiences and insights that provide some validation by consensus. Many of us remember the “consciousness raising” groups of the women’s movement as just such experiences. And we see powerful examples of the importance of consensus information in group affirmation all the time, including, for example, the social support that junior faculty give each other, the importance of professional identity group organizations (such as black journalists or women engineers), and the theme houses on college campuses.
These consensus-building experiences are very important and should never be under-estimated as part of the constructive role that groups can play when we take them seriously. However, precisely because the insiders in the community will likely remain blind to or skeptical of the conclusions of such discussions, other avenues of validation are needed. The outsider needs to be heard beyond the group, and the insider needs to listen to other groups.
How do we create a context for such inter-group dialogue in which the guardedness of the outsider can lessen and the insider can go beyond the egocentrism of individuality. As insiders, we each can listen -- and move toward communal responsibility -- when we get past an individualized framework to see the powerful role of groups in social life. When insiders begin to acknowledge that outsiders have little or no choice but to be seen through their groups then suspicion often evaporates, and the potential for collaboration and community grows. This is when multicultural education is at its best, and when colleges and universities can play a very constructive role in turning the tables of epistemic privilege.
In this regard, it is worth repeating that contrary to an essentialist version of identity-politics, we are all both insiders and outsiders in our lives. That is, the experiences of group-based vulnerability, on one hand, and individuality, on the other, are shared, even if they are distributed differently for different groups or individuals. This is not to say that some dimensions of social organization, such as race/ethnicity or gender in our society, don’t powerfully tip the scale toward constraint over opportunity, group over individual. It is simply to say that the ground is ripe, even for those frequently on the inside, to engage attention to social inequality, in part by turning the tables on whose insights matter and who is listening.
Giving Voice to Outsiders and Asking Insiders to Listen
But, how do we do this in the midst of inter-group competition and suspicion? How do we do it when our campuses and our communities more broadly are quite divided, with many insiders and outsiders, and two strikingly different psychologies about group life?
I would point to two types of multicultural “projects” that can help bridge these two psychologies, while also creating more educational opportunity and more scholarly innovations that matter to the world. One project is internally-focused on constructing opportunities for intra- and inter-group dialogue that capitalize on the relevance of group-based vulnerabilities for virtually everyone. The other project is outwardly focused on connecting the campus -- and its diverse group of scholars and students -- to our broader communities, capitalizing in that case on faculty interest in public scholarship and students’ interests in volunteerism. In each project, however, the central ingredient to success will be to take multicultural groups seriously, unpacking rather than covering up disparities in voice and opportunity and building communal responsibility.
As to the “internal” project of facilitating intra- and inter-group dialogue that address social inequalities head on, this work is, of course, at the core of the expertise of those gathered here and central to the agenda of the Future of Minorities Studies. In this work, and I would point to the curriculum developed at the University of Michigan by Patricia Gurin and her colleagues as a prototype -- there is a commitment to exposing inter-group inequality through group-based experiences that individuals can share. So, for example, women in a dialogue on gender might find consensus support for their experience of not always being listened to by men. At the same time, the men in the group might begin to listen to these observations and take them seriously, even if they believe there was no “intent” to discriminate. Sometimes, the tables turn in a dialogue, so that the experience of being “marked” by one’s group can be felt even by those who more often than not operate with more individuality in their lives. These moments of “epistemic privilege” for the insider -- when our own group-based vulnerability intersects with the consensually expressed views of the outsiders -- can make us more receptive to seeing the situation of outsiders in a new and more empathic light. When the tables turn, common ground, respect and shared responsibility emerge.
At that point, it is also critical to relate these personal experiences to the pervasive social inequalities that attach to some groups -- and therefore to their members -- in particularly powerful ways in our society, and therefore also on our campuses. Through this mixture of the personal and the general, in narratives and in empirical work, it is possible to begin to unpack how for some people, there is often “guilt by group association,” whereas for others, communal responsibility is easy to keep at “arm’s length.”
To make a real difference, however, these dialogues on the power of groups and the effects of social location -- the different psychologies of outsiders and insiders -- must reach far across a campus. While there is little doubt that some group-based vulnerabilities are more pernicious and pervasive than others -- and certainly race and ethnicity, gender, sexuality, and disability fall in this category -- the framework here can be applied broadly and in helpful ways. Many campuses, for example, worry about the kinds of mentoring given to their junior faculty -- in whom they have a substantial investment for the future. I would suggest that this same analysis can be applied constructively to the experiences of untenured versus tenured faculty, and especially if at the same time one considers the issues confronting women and junior faculty of color. Taking this approach one step further, I believe that academic leaders -- including chancellors, deans and department chairs -- can profit from a better understanding of the outsider experiences of particular groups of faculty, staff, and students, and particular disciplines, such as minority studies, for example. It is not at all uncommon on campuses to see the tell-tale signs of insiders and outsiders, each with “good intentions,” talking past each other -- operating with different expectations from different psychologies. We can do something about this if we take on this multicultural campus project.
Connecting to Communities and Turning the Epistemic Table
The complementary project that I see for universities is an external one, in which we forge outward-looking connections to diverse communities, working on the pressing issues of our times -- from failing schools to environmental degradation to inter-religious conflict.
When universities start collaborating with their connected communities (at home and abroad) on the most pressing issues of the day, I have seen the tables turn in ways that benefit both our innovations and the quality of our multicultural community. Why does this happen? I believe the answer lies first in the nature of the problems to be solved now and the connected question of who becomes the expert. It is hard, for example, to make progress on environmental sustainability in an urban ecosystem without addressing questions of environmental justice, and whose voice do we need to listen to in that case? How do we tackle the urban epidemic of diabetes, even if we develop a better understanding through genomics of the disease itself, without contextualizing its spread within the broader questions of race disparities in health? Wouldn’t we understand the genesis of inter-religious conflict better if we engaged with refugee communities in our own cities and towns? It is virtually impossible to find a problem of major importance to our society in which the insights of a diverse, multicultural community would not be very valuable to the solutions.
Additionally, there is a growing cadre of faculty -- including many women and faculty of color -- extending well beyond the social sciences into the arts, humanities, sciences and professions, who are increasingly doing scholarly work that matters to communities. This engagement can also capitalize on the robust presence of service-learning curriculum and volunteerism on campuses. For oddly, interest in service-learning and volunteerism is very high, despite the individualism and detachment, even communal “irresponsibility,” that I described earlier. This engagement of students and faculty in community-based work, and work around the world, can provide a launching pad for sustained attention to questions of social inequality and multicultural community.
It also does something else dramatic. It turns the tables on who has voice, and who can benefit by listening. It reverses roles and the epistemic privilege -- perhaps even its enlightening discomfort -- spreads to a different set of actors. As George Sanchez has suggested, those who often feel relegated to the outside of our campus communities, such as faculty and students of color, emerge with more expertise and authentic voice in this agenda, as they often begin with more “standing” in the surrounding community and on the issues at hand. The social/academic landscape begins to change when the insights of outsiders -- either from the community outside or on the academic margins -- begin to be heard.
This reversal of perspective (or social location) not only prepares everyone for doing the work of the nation, but as importantly it shines some light on inequality. It shows both the strength of diverse groups and cultures and constraints on them. In turn, this is a lesson with powerful ramifications back on campus. As we engage with our communities, we also recognize the stresses of the broader world as they are “brought to” the campus, and then feel some fundamental responsibility to address them as part of building a productive campus community.
Rewarding Scholarship in Action
And when we take that responsibility seriously, then new scholarly and educational vistas open too. At Syracuse, for example, our academic vision is based on the notion of "Scholarship in Action," where interdisciplinary teams of faculty and students engage with communities of experts on issues that matter, such as disabilities, shrinking cities, failing schools, neighborhood entrepreneurship, religious pluralism, or environmental sustainability and the urban ecosystem.
These collaborations, like our Partnership for Better Education with the Syracuse City Schools, create a shared mission that breaks down barriers, between campus and community, and embeds the traditional diversity agenda within the academic work of the institution, and in turn embeds that work in the public good.
To make the Scholarship in Action agenda work, however, we must change our reward structure for faculty who do this collaborative work. We must, for example, support faculty members who want to do public scholarship, with results that may be published in academic, peer-reviewed journals, but may also result in network news specials, digital modules for public libraries, or museum exhibitions. We must find the right incentives for a diverse faculty to engage with communities of experts on innovation that matters, and to that end, many institutions, including Syracuse, are re-evaluating their tenure and promotion criteria. A tenure-team initiative, organized by Imagining America: Artists and Scholars in Public Life, a 70-institution consortium, is gathering best practices on how to promote standards of excellence in public scholarship. Momentum is growing to take public scholarship seriously.
In my view, investing in excellence in public scholarship in our multicultural communities is a pathway toward bringing questions of diversity and diverse students and faculty from the margins of our institution to the center. As we work on innovation that matters -- from the science needed to remediate environmental pollution in our cities and waterways to the art that gives voice to refugees resettling in America -- we learn to value diversity and the insights of diverse others. We also learn to listen harder to each other, dropping a bit of the egocentric covering of our own positions. We see the observations of our peers and colleagues within the broader social landscape in which they are shaped, and we take more responsibility for changing that landscape. We come to see that multicultural progress will be shared, but only if we also take groups seriously.
Multiculturalism, Universalism, and the Lessons of Citizenship
At the end of the day, the hope of these two kinds of projects -- internal multicultural dialogue and external multicultural collaboration -- is that we all come to value diverse groups, not just diverse individuals. We will do this by expanding the lesson of citizenship from one purely about individual rights to one about connectivity and responsibility -- and the social embedding of individuality. We’ll learn that we are all in this together, and we can’t just make creating opportunity someone else’s project. If this works, then I believe that, at least in this regard, presidents will sleep at night, and, more importantly, universities will make a difference in promoting social justice and universal human rights.
Nancy Cantor is chancellor of Syracuse University. Her keynote address in full is available online. A video of the address is available on the institute's Web site.
Voters in Michigan in November approved a proposal to ban affirmative action in the admissions process at state universities. Similar bans have previously won approval in California and Washington State. Various student groups opposed to the ban have filed suit; critics of affirmative action are looking to mount challenges in other states. Affirmative action has always been a politically sensitive issue but it is not the only issue in achieving equality in higher education. As the legal challenges to the Michigan ban work their way through the courts and spread to other states, now is a good time to address another sensitive, and maybe even more important issue: equality in college performance.
Most colleges provide the public with very little information about racial and ethnic differences in students’ grades and graduation rates. Nor do they provide much information about the effectiveness of their diversity programs. So what should prospective minority students and their parents expect after being accepted? Unfortunately, the answer is that race and ethnicity are important predictors of college performance. Recent research confirms that white and Asian students not only enjoy pre-college advantages in family income and school quality, but on average, they also benefit throughout their college experience in ways that black and Latino students do not.
For example, in the 2001 Duke University entering class, freshman grades were on average lower among blacks and Latinos than they were for whites and Asian Americans. Black-white differences narrowed, but remained significant, even among students with similar family structures, social class backgrounds, middle and high school characteristics, and SAT scores.
Why do these racial and ethnic disparities continue? One explanation is stereotype threat; when race or ethnicity is emphasized in academic situations, minority academic performance declines. The core argument is that minority students underperform because they are trying so hard to avoid confirming pernicious stereotypes. However, when excellence is emphasized, the stereotype threat is deactivated and racial and ethnic performance differences fade or disappear. (An excellent "Frontline" interview with Claude Steele explores this issue.)
In addition, there is also evidence that racial and ethnic disparities in college success are due to differences in students’ social and information networks. From parents, peers, staff, and faculty, students get a range of information, such as which courses to take, and the best path to a desired career. They also learn behaviors, such as how to balance social and academic demands on their time. Students who have families with a long history of college attendance are more likely to have access to information about college, and to relevant role models. Due to historical racial disparities, differences in access to these social and information resources tend to correlate with race and ethnicity.
Although these findings may be surprising to many people, they are not news to many in higher education. We have long known that we cannot simply admit diverse cohorts and expect that there will be no group differences in college performance. For decades, colleges have conducted a range of programs designed to increase comfort, skills, and connections among minority students, and to make campuses more receptive to traditionally underrepresented groups.
At Colgate University, Breaking Bread requires members of disparate student groups to plan, prepare, and eat a meal together. By the end of the meal, the groups must have identified a collaborative campus event. Last year, the College Republicans and the Rainbow Alliance combined to bring Andrew Sullivan, a conservative gay-rights advocate, to campus. A strength of Breaking Bread is that it uses everyday activities -- preparing and eating a meal, as an opportunity to build bridges between groups that tend to have very little to do with one another.
Another noteworthy program is the Summer Institute for Diversity and Unity at Hamilton College, where faculty members spend three days off campus engaged in discussion groups about diversity. Participants use the experience to create new course syllabi, or to revise syllabi for existing courses. Over the past three summers, nearly 20 percent of the full-time faculty at Hamilton have participated in the program. This initiative promises a substantial impact on the campus climate because diversity discussions now appear throughout the curriculum, not just in a few courses.
However, these innovative and successful diversity programs are the exception rather than the rule. One reason that colleges don’t provide more information on their diversity programs may be that the programs are not properly evaluated. Far too many programs persist today because key administrators merely believe they work or are reluctant to ask hard questions about politically sensitive programs. This is troubling because the minority students of today are substantially more diverse than minority students in the 1980s. Without rigorous assessment, we cannot know if programs designed 20 years ago are effective for today’s students, or that the programs designed today will be effective for the students of the future.
It is imperative that colleges and universities scrutinize their diversity goals, programs, and outcomes. As with affirmative action, such examination is sure to produce a number of uncomfortable confrontations. Nevertheless, colleges and universities have a responsibility to take on this challenge. The parents who trust us with their children, and the students who trust us with their futures, deserve nothing less.
David R. Harris
David Harris is vice provost for the social sciences at Cornell University. He, along with a team from Cornell and Colgate Universities and Hamilton, Hobart and William Smith, and Wells Colleges co-authored "Eliminating Racial and Ethnic Disparities in College Completion and Achievement," which was commissioned by the Teagle Foundation. A podcast of Teagle Foundation President W. Robert Connor, president of the foundation, interviewing Professor Harris about the report is available here.
There was a national sigh of relief on campuses in June when an altered U.S. Supreme Court left standing the historic 2003 Grutter v. Bollinger decision supporting affirmation action in admissions. There had been widespread fear among civil rights advocates that a more conservative Supreme Court would seriously undermine or even reverse the 5-4 Grutter decision with its author, Justice Sandra Day O’Connor, no longer on the Court. The voluntary school integration decision in Parents Involved in Community Schools v. Seattle School District No. 1 and Meredith v. Jefferson County Board of Education was, indeed, a serious reversal for desegregation in K-12 schools but while divided on the constitutionality of the school plans at issue in the cases, all nine justices agreed that the decision had no impact on the Grutter precedent. The rights of colleges to use race in admissions decisions for student body diversity had survived scrutiny by the most conservative Supreme Court in more than 70 years. Since the Supreme Court rarely takes such cases, the Grutter precedent might last for a while. While a bullet was dodged, optimism should be restrained. The dike protecting affirmative action has held but the river that brings diverse groups of students to colleges may be drying up as a result of the latest decision.
Colleges and universities, especially selective institutions, tend to draw their successful minority applicants from interracial schools and their admissions offices know well that many of the segregated minority high schools fail to prepare their students well enough to succeed in college. Research by the Civil Rights Project has shown that too many segregated urban high schools are "dropout factories" where the main product is dropouts and successful preparation for college is rare. Conservative economist Eric Hanushek found that the damage was worst for the relatively high achieving black students, the very students likely to comprise the college eligible pool. So making segregation worse cuts the number of well prepared students. In addition to academic preparation, students from segregated backgrounds are also often not ready to function socially on a largely white, affluent campus. It also means of course, that the most segregated group of students in American schools, whites, also have less preparation to deal successfully with diversity. So colleges may have won, but also lost.
Even before the new decision, segregation had been on the rise for almost two decades in American public schools, partially as a result of three decisions by the Supreme Court limiting desegregation in the 1990s ( Board of Education of Oklahoma City v. Dowell, Freeman v. Pitts and Missouri v. Jenkins). Because this new decision struck down the most common methods of creating integrated schools in districts without court orders to desegregate, it will likely precipitate further increases in segregation. Since 1980 the tools most commonly used to create integrated schools combine parental choice of schools with magnet programs and racial diversity guidelines. Now the limitations that prevented transfers and magnet choices that increased segregation are gone and districts have to decide whether to do something more complex and multidimensional or abandon their integration efforts. It remains to be seen what will happen in various districts, of course, but the experience of other districts that have ended the consideration of race as a criteria in their student assignment policies suggests that race-neutral methods will lead to resegregation and growing inequality.
Research thus suggests that there are two significant implications for higher education to consider. First, rising segregation is likely to bring a rise in educational inequality and less prepared black and Latino students. Second, all incoming students are likely to have fewer interracial experiences prior to attending college meaning they will be less prepared for effective functioning in an interracial setting.
The Seattle and Louisville cases produced an outpouring of summaries of a half century of research by a number of groups of scholars. A subsequent review of the briefs by the non-partisan National Academy of Education confirms the central premise of Brown v. Board of Education that racially isolated minority schools offer students an inferior education, which is likely to harm their future life opportunities, such as graduation from high school and success in college. Racially isolated minority schools are often unequal to schools with higher percentages of white students in terms of tangible resources, such as qualified, experienced teachers and college preparatory curriculum, and intangible resources including low teacher turnover and more middle-class peers -- all of which are associated with positive higher educational outcomes.
Although colleges and universities differ in their criteria and process for admissions, common elements to their admissions decisions for students include 1) whether a student has or will graduate from high school, 2) standardized test scores, and 3) number of advanced and Advanced Placement courses. Research consistently finds that minority students graduate at significantly lower rates in racially isolated minority schools; in fact, minority isolation is a significant predictor of low graduation rates, even when holding constant the effects of other school performance indicators. Academic achievement scores of students are also lower in segregated minority schools, and this effect can cumulate over time for students who spend multiple years attending segregated schools. Finally, many predominantly minority schools do not offer as extensive advanced curricular opportunities and levels of academic competition as do majority white or white and Asian schools.
In addition to offering different opportunities for academic preparation, research has also found that integrated schools offer minority students important connections to competitive higher education and information about these options. There are strong ties between successful high schools and selective colleges. Minority students who graduate from integrated schools are more likely to have access to the social and professional networks normally available to middle class white students. For example, a study of Latino students who excelled at elite higher educational institutions found that most students had attended desegregated schools -- and gained academic confidence as well as critical knowledge about what they need to do to accomplish their aspirations (e.g., which courses to take from other, college-going students).
White students also lose if schools resegregate. Desegregation advocates assert that public school desegregation is powerful and essential because desegregated schools better prepare future citizens for a multiracial society. A critical component of this preparation is gaining the skills to work with people of diverse backgrounds. Segregated schools in segregated neighborhoods leave white as well and nonwhite students ill-prepared for what they will encounter in colleges and university classes or in their dorms.
Over 50 years ago, Harvard psychologist Gordon Allport suggested that one of the essential conditions to reducing prejudice was that people needed to be in contact with one another, particularly under appropriate conditions. Research in racially integrated schools confirms that, by allowing for students of different races and ethnicities to be in contact with one another, students can develop improved cross-racial understanding and experience a reduction of racial prejudice and bias. Importantly, research suggests that other interventions such as studying about other groups are not as effective or as long-lasting as actually being in contact with students of other racial/ethnic backgrounds.
Research on graduates of racially integrated elementary and secondary schools has also found that students who graduated from these settings felt their integrated schooling experiences had better prepared them for college, including being more interested in attending integrated higher education institutions. The Civil Rights Project has surveyed high school juniors in a number of major school systems around the country and students in more diverse schools report feeling more comfortable living and working with others of different backgrounds than did their peers in segregated high schools.
As schools become more segregated, it will become more incumbent on colleges and universities to intensify their outreach and retention programs to improve access for all students, and to consider the extra burdens borne by the victims of segregation who have done nothing to deserve unequal opportunities. In particular, it will be critically important for colleges and universities to continue to use race in their outreach and retention programs. As colleges and universities that have sought to defend affirmative action policies have long understood and Justice Anthony M. Kennedy recently wrote, “The enduring hope is that race should not matter, the reality is that too often it does.” Further, the need to help students understand how to productively live with others from diverse backgrounds will fall to higher education. As other institutions retreat from mirroring the racial diversity of our country, this may increasingly become a responsibility universities must shoulder.
Our incoming students already have more limited interracial experiences than the last generation of students, a trend that is likely to only get worse. We hope that many school districts will continue to value integration and seek more comprehensive policies under the new guidelines set forth in Justice Kennedy's controlling opinion, but it is very likely that segregation will worsen. We believe that university faculty and researchers who may have expertise to assist local school districts find legal and workable solutions to maintain diversity should offer support at this critical time. Universities can also take a public leadership and education role in continuing to argue for the importance of integrated educational settings. These actions could help limit some of the ill effects of the resegregation of local schools and help keep alive the legacy of Brown in a period of judicial retreat.
Gary Orfield, Erica Frankenberg and Liliana M. Garces
Gary Orfield is a professor at the University of California at Los Angeles and co-director of the Civil Rights Project/Proyecto Derechos Civiles. Erica Frankenberg and Liliana M. Garces are doctoral candidates at the Harvard University Graduate School of Education and research assistants at the Civil Rights Project. Orfield and Frankenberg are co-editors of a recently published book, Lessons in Integration: Realizing the Promise of the Racial Diversity in American Schools (University of Virginia Press). Garces, formerly a civil rights lawyer, served as counsel of record in the 553 Social Scientists brief submitted in support of the desegregation plans in the Seattle and Louisville cases.
I spent Election Night with hundreds of students gathered at Spelman College, along with faculty, staff, administrators, alumnae, and city leaders to await the results of our historic presidential election. It was a remarkable evening in which we collectively reflected on the achievements of the past, the success of the present, and the hopes for the future.
Civil rights icon Rev. Joseph Lowery powerfully described the 2008 election process as a “transformational moment in which the United States is being reborn,” a moment in which the politics of fear and division was giving way to the politics of hope and inclusion. When the announcement of Sen. Barack Obama’s victory came, the cheers and tears in the swell of the largely African-American crowd at Spelman were mirrored in the faces captured by news broadcasters at the multi-racial, multi-ethnic, and multi-generational gatherings in Grant Park in Chicago, Times Square in New York, and at the gates of the White House in Washington. Surely it was a night to remember. Regardless of political affiliation, we can all take pride in the high level of student engagement in this year’s election and relish the social significance to this and every generation of the success of President-elect Obama, the first African-American man to overcome this most symbolic of racial barriers, just 40 years after Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. articulated his dream that one day his children – Barack Obama’s generation – would be judged by the content of their character, not the color of their skin.
According to a recent Gallup poll reported in the weekend edition of USA Today, most Americans (67 percent) do indeed express pride in this collective accomplishment. Even those who did not vote for Obama indicated their excitement about the advance in race relations that his victory represents, recognizing that he was able to garner support from every region in the country. But from the beginning of his campaign, it was the Millennial generation (perhaps forever now to be known as Generation O) that provided a surge ofsupport, voting 2-1 in his favor in the election, and turning out in high numbers for him early in the primaries, before he achieved front-runner status.
Despite the widespread pro-Obama activism among very diverse groups of college students, several ugly campus incidents just before and after the election stand in stark contrast to the rising spirit of racial unification. The hanging of an effigy of Barack Obama at the University of Kentucky, the appearance of a noose on a tree at Baylor University, the dumping of a dead bear plastered with Obama posters at Western Carolina University and the post-election Facebook posting by a University of Texas at Austin student of a call for “all the hunters to gather up, we have a #$%&er in the white house” are just four which all hearken back to a time of overt racial violence and hatred. How can such incidents be understood at this transformative moment?
Are they simply, as some have suggested, random adolescent pranks without racial or political motivation? Certainly immature thoughtlessness shaped by a lifetime of exposure to stereotypical images and cultural messages that reinforce notions of white supremacy and black inferiority is part of the explanation. But history suggests that there is more to it than that. In every period of great social change, there has been a backlash – often violent – in response.
A shifting paradigm generates anxiety – even psychological threat – for those who feel the basic assumptions of society changing in ways they can no longer predict. Twenty-seven percent of the recent Gallup poll respondents said the results of the election “frightened” them. Some of that fear is perhaps related to disagreement with Obama’s policies or related concerns. But for some small segment, perhaps like those involved in the campus incidents, the fear may be related to an unvoiced and maybe even unconscious recognition that the racial calculus of our society has been changed by the election, a change that threatens the position of privilege white people have occupied for so long. Such a sense of threat can lead to irrational, potentially violent behavior, and of course, the fear of such violence is underscored by the not-so-distant history of brutality and murder which accompanied the struggle for civil rights (including voting rights) in our nation. Such acts are like severe birthing pains – painful contractions which no one wants – yet they are signs of something new emerging.
Certainly the election of 2008 changed a fundamental narrative in American culture. That narrative has been replayed on television and in movies and in politics throughout all of our lives. It can be summed up in this way: In a heroic struggle, after all the twists and turns of the plot line, the white guy (usually the blond) wins. The black guy, if there is one, is usually eliminated from the story before the end. Today the story has a new ending. We can no longer predict the winner based on race (and perhaps, soon, not even on gender.) The election of 2008 and the victory of Barack Obama mean that anyone with talent, drive and a great game plan can win. That new possibility makes for a much better story and a much better society.
Yet as we collectively get used to the new narrative, how should we respond to what I interpret as campus expressions of fear? We need to seize the teachable moment. Illuminate the pattern of violence associated with movements of social change, so when incidents threatening in tone and content occur, they can be understood by all in a meaningful social and historical context. Maintain a posture in which hateful incidents are never allowed to take place unchallenged – and provide opportunities for more speech, more dialogue about how various groups of students are experiencing the social changes we are all witnessing. Lift up the power of cross-racial coalitions, a power we have just witnessed in the election of Barack Obama. We should not rush past the significance of the great example of effective team building across lines of difference that we have just witnessed. It is a powerful example of 21st century leadership, one too rarely seen in our history but essential for our future. We should use it fully as a model for our students. Something new was born on Election Night. We have the responsibility and opportunity to nurture it on our campuses.
Beverly Daniel Tatum
Beverly Daniel Tatum is president of Spelman College. Her books include Can We Talk About Race? And Other Conversations in an Era of School Resegregation and Why Are All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria? And Other Conversations About Race.
Does race matter? As rhetorical as it seems, this question continues to emerge as a topic worthy of debate. In the wake of electing the first black American as the 44th president of the United States, many people had a sigh of relief that America had proven to be post-racial. For many others, however, particularly many people of color, their excitement about electing Barack Obama was muted by the awareness, reinforced daily, that race still matters greatly in America, and that the election was diminishing the perception of this reality, particularly for the non-minority population.
Six months into President Obama’s term, we now celebrate the confirmation of Justice Sonia Sotomayor as the first Hispanic to serve on the Supreme Court. In between these two historic events, we also witnessed the unfortunate debacle in Cambridge, Massachusetts involving Harvard professor Henry Louis Gates Jr. and Police Sergeant James Crowley, of the Cambridge police department. In varying ways, each of these scenarios has raised numerous questions about race and its prevalence in today’s society. Does race matter? Inarguably, yes! Even Barack Obama’s election last November reflected this unfortunate tradition, with an increase in ugly racial incidents both on-campus and off, surrounding that momentous occasion.
As colleges and universities nationwide start the semester, the events of the past six months, especially the two occurring this summer, present exceptional opportunities for our postsecondary institutions to actively engage and critically examine where their respective campus communities – faculty, staff, and students, new and old – currently stand regarding issues of race. Yet, even without such an examination, we know from years of research that racial/ethnic gaps persist in almost every corner of our nation’s campuses.
There are racial disparities in college enrollment and college completion. Over the last three decades, undergraduate enrollment rates for racial/ethnic minority students have increased, nearly doubling. Minorities have also made gains in completion rates at the high school and collegiate levels; however when compared to Whites, gaps in student achievement remain for nearly all minority groups.
There are racial disparities in fields of study and graduate education. Fewer racial/ethnic minority students graduate in fields like science and engineering; fewer receive post-baccalaureate training and attain master’s, doctorate, and professional degrees.
There are racial disparities in perceptions of campus climate. Racial/ethnic minority students are less likely to express satisfaction with their overall undergraduate experience. They also are less likely to feel a sense of belonging, interact with faculty/staff, and hold leadership positions in clubs/organizations.
There are racial disparities in hiring, tenure, and compensation policies. Post graduation, racial/ethnic minorities earn less, with the same credentials, as their White counterparts. Even within the ranks of our liberal-minded institutions, Blacks and Hispanics are grossly underrepresented in our faculties. And where people of color do find positions within our institutions, it is too often in adjunct faculty positions, bereft of the pay and benefits appreciated by regular faculty, and in our service departments, perpetuating the inequalities that we so often condemn in society in general.
Certainly, there are those who firmly embrace the belief in the achievement ideology, which considers American society to be fair and meritocratic. For them, success and failure are based on individual differences in ability and motivation, and not societal or economic barriers. And while they strongly hold to their beliefs, there is a mountain of evidence to show that our society -- including some of our campuses -- is filled with longstanding, persistent barriers that fall along a color line.
Many have been saying that we need to have a national conversation on the issues of race in America. Some have said we need this because race issues are being swept under the carpet; others because the election of President Obama provides the most comfortable segue into such discussions in recent times. Whatever the reason, now seems like the opportune moment.
The discussions surrounding Justice Sotomayor’s nomination to the Supreme Court provide a unique opportunity for conversation about the lines between pride in heritage and pride in race. Many responded to Justice Sotomayor’s personal characterization of herself as a “wise Latina” as evidence of her inherent racism. Yet, many of the same people found Justice Samuel Alito’s espoused proud heritage as the son of Italian immigrants as enduring and humanizing. Why the difference? It is because we all see the world from our own worldview, and that worldview is shaped by our race and ethnicity?
As Eugene Robinson states so eloquently in his July 14, 2009 op-ed in The Washington Post, the dominant perception has often been that “being white and male is seen ... as a neutral condition, the natural order of things. Any ‘identity’ -- black, brown, female, gay, whatever – has to be judged against this supposedly ‘objective’ standard.” His observation offers a true learning opportunity – a moment to explore in open dialogue how our past defines our present; a moment to challenge assumptions based on a world view that we almost always perceived as legitimate, but which is almost certainly biased, whoever we are, by our own experience.
The case involving Gates and Crowley also gives us a moment to explore critical questions about race. Was race an issue in the arrest of Gates, in his home? Where you stand on this issue seems to depend on where you sit. Some clearly argue this as a case of racial profiling, while others consider it an issue of belligerence leading to arrest. Even after their meeting with President Obama and Vice President Biden, these two gentlemen resolved the issue by agreeing to disagree. This situation also provides us with a great opportunity for dialogue around issues of race, individual worldviews, and differing perceptions of reality. This is a particularly powerful case for discussion because it raises so many critical questions about race and power, and as we have seen, offers no definitive resolution.
We in higher education have an opportunity – a unique teachable moment in which to engage our students about race matters on our campuses and in our communities. Though the both of us work in the higher education policy community, not in the campus environment, our work does provide ample evidence that race matters in America and in American higher education. We want to encourage those of you who lead our colleges and universities to use these unique circumstances to begin a dialogue on race in your institutions -- and not just in orientation and freshmen seminars, but also in faculty senate meetings, staff retreats, board meetings, and the like. We also strongly encourage faculty and administrators to engage students, inside and outside the classroom, to have deliberative dialogues on topics of race. Certainly, many institutional leaders would state that they already have a commitment to racial justice and equity on their campuses.
Some faculty and administrators may suggest that courses and activities focusing on race only draws those who are already have an expressed interest and passion. In other words, they may feel as if they are preaching to the choir. Other institutional leaders are simply cautious about invoking race and discussions of race in fear of being personally attacked for their beliefs and values. Regardless of where you or your institutions currently stand in this respect, we strongly encourage you to take advantage of this unique moment.
Some institutions have already begun such efforts. For example, leaders at Ithaca College’s decided to use President Obama’s Dreams from My Father as the text for freshman convocation preceding the beginning of classes. For campuses that have already begun their semester, and thus cannot adjust class schedules, one possibility would be to devote a day to discussions – certainly this topic is as important as a reprieve from snow or storm. Alternatively, faculty should participate in and establish an extramural seminar for their own benefit and/or for their students. Many options and resources exist for faculty and administrators interested in pursuing this path. We do not advocate any particular strategy; we simply want to urge institutional leaders and faculty to capitalize on the moment and consider the benefit it could yield for students and campuses.
It is indeed the right time to start the conversation, and the events of the summer provide a unique avenue into this discussion.
Michelle Asha Cooper and David A. Longanecker
Michelle Asha Coooper is president of the Institute for Higher Education Policy. David A. Longanecker is president of the Western Interstate Commission for Higher Education.
The seemingly endless debates about the pros and cons of race-based affirmative action point to two essential conclusions. First, without denying the relevance of moral or philosophical arguments and legal principles, it is important to confront claims with empirical evidence. This is what we do in our new book, No Longer Separate, Not Yet Equal— a study of how students’ racial and social class backgrounds are intimately intertwined with the selective college experience. We find, for instance, that:
Compared to white applicants at selective private colleges and universities, black applicants receive an admission boost that is equivalent to 310 SAT points, measured on an all-other-things-equal basis. The boost for Hispanic candidates is equal on average to 130 SAT points. Asian applicants face a 140 point SAT disadvantage.
"Descendant" black applicants (those who are in the fourth-or-higher immigrant generation and single race — to a first approximation, the descendants of the American slave population) are admitted to selective colleges at significantly higher rates than "vanguard" black candidates (students who are multiracial and/or first- or second-generation immigrants). Even so, vanguards make up close to 60 percent of all black students on private college campuses and nearly 25 percent at public universities. Vanguards represent even larger shares of black applicant pools.
We find evidence for and against a "mismatch" hypothesis. Students who are the beneficiaries of race-based affirmative action are more likely to graduate, more likely to enroll in professional or graduate schools, and more likely to have higher lifetime incomes if they attend a more selective college. However, class rank at college graduation for a given student is likely to decline as college selectivity goes up. On balance, we conclude that a higher graduation rate and the other advantages of attending a more selective institution more than outweigh the potential disadvantages of lower class rank at graduation.
Doing away with racial preferences for underrepresented minority students would substantially reduce the number of such students at selective colleges. No admission policy that we have examined is able to replicate underrepresented minority student shares at selective universities if affirmative action is eliminated. This includes policies that substitute class-based for race-based affirmative action.
A second and more important conclusion is that debating the relative merits of affirmative action deflects attention away from something much more fundamental — America’s racial gap in academic achievement. Fixing the achievement gap would obviate the need for affirmative action to create racially diverse campuses. This gap is observed in the pre-college academic records of applicants in our study, and it persists among first-year students. For instance, the average SAT score among entering Asian students in the sample of competitive colleges we studied is 225 points higher (on a 1600-point scale) than the average for black students. More than three-quarters of Asian students graduated in the top 10 percent of their high school class, in contrast to less than one-half of black students. Academic performance in college shows similar racial disparities, whether it is measured by six-year graduation rates or by class rank.
What we see at selective colleges and universities is just the tip of the iceberg. It is symptomatic of a much broader societal phenomenon. Racial gaps in academic skills and knowledge begin to develop soon after birth. They are reflected initially in children’s inventories of vocabulary words and later in tests of math and reading. By the time of kindergarten entry, black children lag about one year behind whites. Gaps continue to grow throughout the elementary and secondary school years in a pattern of cumulative advantage and disadvantage. By 12th grade, black students on average have fallen roughly four years behind whites. Hispanic students perform slightly better than blacks but not nearly at the level of white and Asian students. The likelihood of repeating a grade, lower-track placement in high school, and graduating high school are differentiated by race in the same way. Social class differences account for some of these gaps, but the gaps remain when income and other measures of socioeconomic status are held constant.
A skeptic might reasonably ask: "How much does this really matter?" For one thing, the racial academic performance gap lies at the heart of many adult forms of social and economic inequality. What starts off as a racial gap in school readiness quickly becomes an academic achievement gap, which is followed by a graduation gap, a labor-market skills gap, a wage gap, and eventually a poverty gap. The chain of cumulative causation extends well into adulthood. Racial gaps in academic accomplishment have been linked to racial differences in educational attainment, crime, health, and family structure. There is every reason to believe that these differences in adult outcomes would be reduced if a way could be found to narrow racial performance gaps among children and adolescents.
An additional reason to be concerned is that racial gaps in academic success have implications for workforce quality and the competitiveness of the U.S. economy. Poorly educated Americans face a number of growing hurdles. There are important racial and ethnic differences in the distribution of job-related skills; nearly half of all new jobs being created in the U.S. require a college degree; and the Hispanic plus non-Hispanic black share of the workforce is increasing. Added to this is the fact that global forces are putting pressure on American families with inadequate education. The end of the cold war and the integration of China, India, and the former Soviet-bloc republics into the international market-oriented, capitalist production system effectively doubled the number of workers in the global economy from about 1.5 billion in 2000 to 3 billion. Whereas unskilled U.S. workers once had to compete only with other unskilled Americans, now poorly educated Americans have to compete with unskilled, low-wage workers anywhere in the world. At the very time we need a better educated population to compete with other rapidly modernizing countries and to avoid a decline in living standards, growth in the quality of the U.S. workforce has slowed or stagnated.
The challenge facing all Americans is to identify the factors responsible for the racial academic achievement gap and close this gap as soon as possible. Time alone is an unreliable ally. Given the slow rate of convergence in black-white test outcomes over the past 30 years, it is likely to take another century to reach parity. The No Child Left Behind Act aims to eliminate the racial gap in academic achievement by the end of the 2013-14 school year, but no serious observer believes this goal will be met. Test scores have been rising for all students, but racial gaps persist. There is general agreement about the broad set of factors responsible for the achievement gap. Home environments, schools, and neighborhood conditions, among other determinants, have been implicated. But no one knows for sure how all of these factors interact or what their relative importance is. Most critically, there is no consensus on the most effective intervention strategies.
So What is to Be Done?
To address this problem, we propose in our book the equivalent of a Manhattan Project for the social and behavioral sciences — a project with the same scale, urgency, and sense of importance as the original Manhattan Project. Its aims should be twofold: (1) to identify the causes and cumulative consequences of racial gaps in academic achievement and (2) to develop concrete steps that can be taken by parents, schools, neighborhoods, and the public sector all working together to close these gaps on a nationwide scale. We should not be satisfied with demonstrated success in pilot studies on a local level.
The project we envision is an extraordinarily ambitious undertaking, likely on a scale previously unimagined in social or behavioral science research. It will have to monitor the lives of a large sample of children — perhaps as many as 50,000 — who are followed from birth to roughly age eighteen, or onto the first rung of their postsecondary plans. Data generated by this project will doubtless consume the time of hundreds of graduate students, faculty, and research scientists at our leading research and teaching institutions.
All Americans stand to benefit from the knowledge and action plan derived from this project, especially individuals whose life chances will be made brighter as a result. But there are several groups that have a particular stake in its success:
Higher education. As we have shown in our simulations, if black-white and Hispanic-white achievement gaps are closed, affirmative action policies would no longer be needed at selective colleges and universities to preserve current shares of underrepresented minority students on campus. This issue takes on greater urgency because of the 25-year sunset provision for affirmative action suggested in Sandra Day O’Connor’s 2003 majority opinion in Grutter v. Bollinger and the realization that students going to college in 2028 will be born next year.
Corporate America. Achievement gaps impede diversity in the workplace, not only in entry-level positions but up and down the corporate ladder. All too often one finds a shrinking diversity pipeline as one looks at upper levels of management. Closing the achievement gap would help expand this pipeline.
U.S. taxpayers. Many of our public policies and programs are directed to combating the symptoms of the achievement gap, but this approach is both expensive and inefficient. Individuals with improved education and greater labor market success have higher earnings, pay more in taxes, and make fewer claims on public services.
Philanthropic sector. Identifying successful intervention strategies will give foundations concerned with child welfare and, especially, the education of children and adolescents a clearer idea of where to target resources.
The racial gap in academic performance plays a much more central role in problems that loom large today than almost anyone realizes. That is why we call this gap “the most pressing domestic issue facing the United States at the beginning of the twenty-first century.” Closing the achievement gap has the potential to do more for race relations and racial equality in this country than any other initiative currently under consideration.
Thomas J. Espenshade and Alexandria Walton Radford
Thomas J. Espenshade is professor of sociology at Princeton University. Alexandria Walton Radfordis a research associate in postsecondary education with MPR Associates Inc. in Washington.
In the early 1990s, two social psychologists conducted an experiment to see whether our society’s negative racial stereotypes affect the learning experience of students in our educational institutions. They selected a group of black and white Stanford undergraduates and gave them a test made up of items from the advanced Graduate Record Examination in literature. The students had been statistically matched for ability, and since most of them were sophomores, the GRE-based test was intentionally chosen so that it would be challenging and difficult for them.
The psychologists – Claude Steele and Joshua Aronson – wanted to see if there were differences in the way students of similar academic background but from different racial groups experienced a test that is supposed to be scientific and "objective." In particular, they wanted to see whether simple cues provided in the testing environment would affect the students’ performance. The cues they provided casually were intended to refer indirectly to negative social images; their goal was to see, in short, if negative social stereotypes were mere words, or if they had the power of sticks and stones (for a basic overview, see “Thin Ice”).
What they found was startling. When the test was given to the students as an abstract test of intellectual ability (the cue from the examiner echoing social prejudices about IQ tests), the black students in the group performed less well than the white students. When, however, they presented the same test as a study of "how certain problems are generally solved," with a clear statement that the task did not measure intellectual ability in general, the black students' performance improved dramatically and now their scores matched those of the white students.
Experiments such as this one have been carefully replicated by researchers in various countries and they consistently produce the same measurable effect – not only in the case of racial stereotypes but also those concerning gender and class. The series of experiments Steele and his colleagues conducted revealed to them that all our current beliefs about bolstering self-confidence and eliminating socially produced self-doubt are much less relevant to the learning context than we think.
Instead, what the black students revealed was that they were responding to their educational environment with "social mistrust.” “When they felt trust,” says Steele, summarizing the results of this series of experiments, the students “performed well regardless of whether we had weakened their self-confidence beforehand. And when they didn’t feel trust, no amount of bolstering of self-confidence helped." He goes on to suggest that educational policy needs to recognize how "different kinds of students may require different pedagogies of improvement."
Steele says that we need to think about “fostering racial trust” if we want to improve the educational environment for vast numbers of American college students. This proposal – and the groundbreaking research on which it is based – goes to the heart of the discussion of what we may call "the future of diversity." The proposal takes us beyond our current – perfectly justified – concern with providing more students "access" to college. It forces us to think about what our campuses feel like to those who come to learn.
Social trust or mistrust are not merely attitudinal matters, to be left up to those who are affected by them, that is, the students; trust and mistrust – as we see in the case of the cues provided in the psychology experiments – are produced by our actions as teachers and administrators, and they reveal much more than our personal intentions as individuals. As many have argued in recent decades, trust is a social achievement and it takes us beyond our contractual obligations to be legally fair. Trust and mistrust are often defining characteristics of the environment in which we all live and function, and they can exist even in the absence of overt discrimination. So the real question is whether our students experience our educational institutions as being trustworthy.
Far from being content with recruiting greater numbers of socially underprivileged students, staff, and faculty, we need to see the ideal of social trust as a positive challenge to re-imagine the culture of our campuses, to envision a culture that will be more conducive to learning precisely because it is more open, democratic, and genuinely attentive to the experiences of different social groups. Diversity needs to be conceptualized not only from the perspective of access (admissions, recruitment, financial aid, etc.) but also – and equally importantly – from the perspective of the campus as a learning environment for different kinds of learners.
A forthcoming volume, TheFuture of Diversity: Academic Leaders Reflect on American Higher Education (Palgrave Macmillan) contains essays by academic leaders from a variety of American institutions on both these perspectives – access and the culture of learning. How do we broaden access to more kinds of social groups? How do we make our campuses more genuinely inclusive? How do we conceive social diversity as a valuable educational resource, rather than a problem to be managed or solved? How, finally, do we replace the mistrust many feel – and the inequality of access, opportunity, and experience it points to – with the kind of social trust on which all learning, and indeed the very ideal of democracy, depends? These are big and general questions, and the prominent academics who have contributed to this volume – university and foundation presidents, deans, leading scholars -- address them by drawing in part on their own specific experiences. They review what we have all learned from recent history – from the Supreme Court’s verdict on the University of Michigan’s use of affirmative action to experiments on various campuses involving students from different cultural backgrounds – and they make concrete proposals for the future.
One of the challenges is to imagine a diverse campus as a valuable and unique learning environment, one that is in effect a social laboratory of sorts. Nancy Cantor – president of Syracuse University and former provost of the University of Michigan (during the critical period when the recent Supreme Court cases were being prepared) -- argues that university campuses have a special role to play in building the future of our multicultural and diverse society. Cantor argues that "healthy group dynamics" are critical "if we are to open up our institutions (and the power within them and conferred by them) and transcend the destructive fault lines of our society, thereby building the capacity for – and trust in – democratic culture beyond the campus." Cantor’s central point is that the campus culture needs to be organized in such a way that it respects the "delicate balance between strong group identification and vibrant inter-group exchange."
Like many psychologists, Cantor affirms the importance of group identification for the psychological well-being of those who are from socially marginalized groups, thus implicitly rejecting the popular notion that group identities are necessarily opposed to the non-parochial ethical perspective required of citizens of a democratic society. She also focuses on the importance of "normalizing" conflict, of raising – through "mutual respect and healthy interaction" – our consciousness of conflict so that we see it as a potential source of knowledge, a vitally important knowledge in a democratic society that thrives on difference (of background, of views, of life experiences).
A second issue arises when we think about the roles played by different kinds of universities, especially non-elite and regional institutions. Campuses like Rutgers-Newark or Michigan-Dearborn serve first-generation immigrant families and provide an educational experience in which socio-cultural diversity defines the learning environment, one that reflects the rich diversity of both American society in general and the increasingly globalized world in which we all live. But Steven Diner, chancellor of Rutgers-Newark, points out that while his alumni recognize the value of this environment and talk about it eloquently, the mainstream culture seems to lack the tools with which to measure its value. Daniel Little, chancellor of Michigan-Dearborn, makes this point in more general terms. While elite status and financial resources are valuable, he says, they do not guarantee a superior educational experience, for a quality education depends on a combination of factors, chief among which is the conscious planning and coordination by various levels of the campus leadership – the administration and the faculty. Diner and Little point to the crucial role played in any democratic society by regional and urban institutions in providing access and social mobility to immigrants and those from lower income groups. If the goal is to reduce social inequality through education, then regional and urban universities need to be both recognized and supported by policy makers at not just the state level but also nationally.
The scandalous truth is of course that American educational policy is weak precisely on a national level, since funding of public universities has generally been left entirely up to the states. What the recent economic downturn makes clear, however, is that American higher education, which has traditionally been the engine of the country’s economic development, has fallen behind dramatically, and that is mainly because of the erosion of federal funding and our myopic social policies about lower income groups. As the economist Paul Krugman points out in TheNew York Times, education and social mobility suffer because of largely invisible economic policy decisions, the net effect of which is that American higher education is no longer available to the population at large. Krugman considers this predictable result of myopic national policy to be “a large gratuitous waste of human potential,” and calls for Congress to take appropriate measures. “Education made America great,” he points out, and goes on to issue a timely and urgent warning: “neglect of education can reverse the process.”
Noting the need to address social inequality in the broader national context, Eugene Tobin [former president of Hamilton College and co-author – with William Bowen and Martin Kurzweil -- of Equity and Excellence in American Higher Education (2005)] recommends that at least the top universities, private and public, consider putting a "thumb on the admission scale" by taking low-income status at least as seriously as we now take race. Research shows that students from less affluent backgrounds, once admitted, go on to do at least as well as those from more affluent ones. Broader considerations of social justice would necessitate that colleges and universities take class seriously in their definition of social diversity. Income-based preferences in admission, Tobin argues, should be seen as a necessary complement to the race-based programs that have been so successful in diversifying the major colleges and universities that have initiated such programs in recent decades.
All these attempts to imagine a more genuinely diverse academic campus have an interesting implication: academic "excellence" can be achieved only if we recognize the social conditions in which learning takes place. Our efforts to promote excellence on our campuses are closely tied to our ideals of democracy and diversity, and these efforts cannot be successful if we do not question our deeper assumptions about what success is and what produces an effective culture for the work of scholarship and teaching. For such work is not done by abstract individuals but by socially embodied beings, with socially produced strengths and vulnerabilities, and any attempt to think about the educational culture of a campus must focus on the actual experiences of faculty and students from a variety of social backgrounds. This requires a rethinking of some of our most basic theoretical assumptions as well as a reexamination of our traditional habits and practices.
One of these theoretical assumptions concerns the nature and value of what is called "objectivity." It is possible to worry that while taking the subjective experiences of students and faculty of color, for instance, into account may improve the campus culture in some respects, it compromises the objectivity of our approach as senior faculty or administrators. That worry is based on the understanding of objectivity as pure “neutrality,” and there are reasons to doubt that this conflation of objectivity with neutrality is intellectually justified. Modern philosophers often talk about the need to see objectivity as a context-sensitive value rather than the product of an abstract and a-contextual attitude of neutrality. So in contexts where unfairness is built into the environment because of half-conscious habits and practices that echo and reinforce prejudices prevalent in the social mainstream, genuine objectivity may itself be the product of a conscious effort to examine our assumptions rather than of a neutral approach – as evidenced, for instance, in "color blind" or "gender blind" policies. What seems fair and just to a member of one social group is not in fact experienced in the same way by members of a group that is, say, the target of negative social stereotypes.
One of the most revealing experiments done by Steele’s colleagues showed that what targets of negative stereotype threat respond to most favorably is a clear message that while the test is tough the evaluation will be fair – that the students’ social identities will not be a factor in the way their academic performance is judged. In thinking about the culture of a genuinely inclusive learning environment, then, the first great challenge for us may be to remind ourselves that what is needed is not so much sentimental partiality as -- ultimately -- greater objectivity. The assurance of genuine fairness can restore social trust. The future of diversity on our campuses depends on our thinking hard about restoring to education and learning the healthy environment of mutual trust and respect in which alone they can thrive. And while social forces beyond our immediate control do much to diminish this trust, the joy – indeed the magic and mystery – of learning is that it can transcend such forces. The world pervades our classrooms and our laboratories, but it does not wholly determine what can be achieved in them.
Both recent research in social psychology and the academic leaders I have been quoting suggest that there is an urgent need for all of us to coordinate our efforts to re-imagine our campuses and to work toward making them the laboratories that they can be -- of the future society we hope to build. Social diversity is about more than just numbers. Most importantly, it is not a "problem" to be solved, but rather an enormous social and educational resource that is waiting to be tapped. From admissions to sports to the designing of the curriculum and of non-curricular interactions, the practical and theoretical challenges posed by a campus’s “diversity” are the gateways to a more democratic national future.
Satya P. Mohanty
Satya P. Mohanty is professor of English at Cornell. He is director of the national Future of Minority Studies Summer Institute, funded since 2005 through grants by the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation. The Future of Diversity, which he co-edited with the philosopher Daniel Little (chancellor of the University of Michigan at Dearborn), will be published by Palgrave Macmillan in June 2010.
“This is my favorite Jewish joke of all time and I share it with you…. In this Jewish restaurant in New York in the Lower East Side, on a very humid summer’s evening, one of the diners, a rather loud and not entirely civilized individual, schleppsthe waiter over and says: 'Waiter, it’s too hot in here. Put the air conditioning on.' The waiter goes out and comes back a few minutes later. Ten minutes later he says: 'Waiter, it’s now too cold. Turn the air conditioning off.' The waiter goes out. A few minutes later he calls him over for a third time: 'Waiter, it’s too hot again. Turn the air conditioning back on.' As the waiter is about to go out for the third time, a man just by the door says: 'Waiter, I feel so sorry for you. This man must be driving you mad' and the waiter says: 'Well no, actually, I’m driving himmad. You see, there is no air conditioning.' This joke was enough to tell me that sometimes the climate in your head matters as much as the climate out there."
--The Chief Rabbi Lord Sacks of England, June 2010
For the second consecutive year, we have held a diversity "summit" for all 35 institutions in the state of Georgia. Our system is a large one, with over 311,000 students, and the faculty, staff, facilities, leaders, and communities it takes to serve them well. So an institution as sizable as ours can't help but capture the human diversity that is America – by race, ethnicity, religion, sexual orientation, political party, country of origin, physical capability, and of course, ideas. At our first summit, in the fall of 2009, we tackled the chronic challenges most all colleges and universities face: faculty hiring, diversity plans, staff shortages in disability services, the relationship of diversity to state economic development, and various infrastructure and policy issues that are vital if not always scintillating.
This year, we decided to focus on the interpersonal dynamics of conversation about difference – what the Ford Foundation has labeled "difficult dialogues" and we called "courageous conversations." The goal was to put aside the structural matters, like hiring and setting up the right administrative arrangements, and get to the more emotional, fraught dimensions of diversity. To that end, our invited speakers -- academics, consultants, and students -- focused on the psychological and sociological aspects of difference and tolerance, with a great emphasis on the elusive stuff that is so hard to measure. I realize, now that our meetings have ended, that Rabbi Sacks’ notion of the "climate in your head" best fits what we were trying to tackle – all 200 of us faculty and administrators, gathered in the same room for dinner, breakfast, lunch, and conversation.
While everyone in attendance was game for some tough dialogue, and more important, learning how to introduce hard conversations onto campuses, few of us were prepared to do any introspection. After all, we already believe in diversity, which is why we organized the event, took two days out of our schedules to be there, and -- for many in attendance -- even hold positions with "diversity" in the title. While the sorts of leaders who head up diversity and inclusion efforts are as cynical as everyone else in America is right now, we are generally the upbeat types who do see civility and multiculturalism as central to what we do.
Three very different speakers – a historian (Tom Sugrue of the University of Pennsylvania), a psychologist (Layli Maparyan of Georgia State University), and a high-powered educational consultant (Glenn Singleton) all told us the same thing, in the most non-touchy-feely of ways: Don’t try to teach inclusion or lecture others about diversity unless you feel it in your gut. Do you? If you don’t, forget trying to be effective on your own campus. They were not asking us to go to church, or synagogue, or mosque, or the woods for perfunctory meditation to confirm with our own selves that we are in fact without prejudice. They asked more than that, urging us to evaluate our own attitudes in a rigorous, systematic way and, in Singleton’s words, "experience discomfort" and "expect/accept non-closure."
It wasn’t squishy at all -- far from it -- and our speakers gave us a variety of tools to conduct the introspection, and to pass on to others. But it was not the only practical advice we received, since we learned as much from each other during two magical days of thinking, reflecting, and no ringing cell phones. Maybe it is old wine in new bottles, but many hardened attendees, who had been to 20 and 30 years worth of diversity events, were inspired by, or at least reminded of, these notions:
There is the surface and then what lies beneath. Staying with the rabbi’s joke, and adding a distinction from my own field of public opinion research: It really is about climate and not about weather. Weather is the fleeting opinions of a person or nation, while climate is our underlying values and deeply-held beliefs. With diversity, the good and bad stuff that happens in a particular instance – the terrific MLK day event, a religious unity forum, or the flinging of some hate speech toward minority students – tends to be weather. Those are events, moments in time, and signify very little about your fundamental campus dynamics. They are distracting, time-consuming, and even frightening, but in many ways they don’t matter: I have been on many campuses with horrendous racial dynamics that managed to stage some pretty great diversity events. Alternatively, some of the campuses with the most harmony and diversity have very little programming or high-profile events, and just live tolerance, day-to-day. What goes on under the surface at your place, and have you made the distinction between climate and weather?
That said, while diversity programming may indeed be weather, and not indicative of climate, it must go on. I’ve become somewhat skeptical about events that celebrate diversity, because I am not sure they solve our problems or overcome all those anxieties. But I reversed myself at our summit, after hearing from our students. Just because we’ve been at hundreds of great events does not mean they have: a blind student from a sparsely populated rural area can find a lecture series about the struggles and triumphs of physically-challenged Americans life-changing and life-affirming. They are legitimated, they meet friends, they meet faculty, they are inspired.
Leaders, get out there for real. Those of us who are senior administrators are going to have to go spend quality time, not chatty superficial cocktail-hour-type time, with non-administrators. You are not off the hook by attending celebratory diversity events, or engaging in the bizarrely named non-management technique of "management by walking around." You actually should go have some meaningful conversations with faculty, staff, and students. Many campus leaders think that if they have a few minority fellow-leaders, they do have a circle for conversation. All set! But it’s just not good enough and it's too much pressure on your minority colleagues; they can’t represent all their many diverse peoples. Plunge into the late night dorm lounges – students are much more loquacious in these places after around 9 p.m. And if you want to get the most nuanced understanding of tolerance and intolerance on your campus, spend some time with a group of the more senior secretarial staff. They see and hear it all, and they can give you an understanding of climate that you will not just stumble into on your usual rounds or capture in a "climate study."
Rhetoric. Learn some language to use, to articulate what you mean by diversity and inclusion. One of the most difficult parts of starting courageous conversations is gathering the rhetorical tools for it. Most of us don’t have them, and did not pick them up in our chosen scholarly disciplines. This is not a secret jargon, just the words that really do describe how people feel in fraught situations – discomfort, fear, silence, intimidation, tension, anxiety. "Anxiety" is probably the overriding emotion, when it comes to difficult talk about difference, and it works on so many levels: we feel anxious ourselves, we see others struggle with it, and there is a broader social anxiety present in political discourse on television. Understanding its many manifestations and modes puts one a long way toward articulating diversity and challenges to it.
Diverse peoples, but also diverse ideas. It is about the diversity of ideas, in part. This is a tough one for many academics, but those who criticize higher education from the right are correct about the narrow conversation we enable. Of course the academy is dominated by liberals; it is an empirical reality. This demands we recognize what we know in our scholarly disciplines: that there is always diversity of thought, and it matters as much as the optical diversity we discuss so often – skin color, gender, dress. Enabling conservatives their place on campus is part of inclusion. Welcome it, encourage it, always work to tolerate any ideology that irks you. As long as it is not hate speech, and the ground rules are based in openness and civility, all ideologies get to occupy the legitimate level playing field, with all the other people and ideas.
Dating, sex, and maybe even love (occasionally?). You can turn red here because you are reading this alone. If you are over 30, faculty or administrator, you must face the fact that your understanding of students’ social world is deficient and most likely, near zero. You don’t get it. And don’t think that having teenagers at home yourself is educative, because they aren’t living in dorms yet. Students’ habits and approaches to relationships are foreign to us but very much about diversity: Who is doing what with whom? Who won’t do what with whom? Who talks about who does what and why? All the dalliances and what they mean are confusing. But don’t underestimate the centrality and hurtfulness of everyday sexual life to our students, as the awful suicide case of Rutger’s student Tyler Clementi underscored so dramatically. Diversity is conflated with sexuality in multiple ways, and while you are unlikely to understand it fully, you need to try.
Obviously, you cannot – although students have led me there on occasion – go around and initiate delicate discussions of sexuality and diversity yourself. You need a student mentor or guide through the jungle, and they are happy to help. It is more than fine, on this topic at least, to be led by your students and follow their lead with regard to both planning discussions and holding them. After the first or second immersion, it’s easier and you may even be able to lead yourself, giving the preface that your own days of youthful partnering are long past! They will think you are very cool, but most of all, that you care enough to try and understand them.
Technology is overrated. We are turning to technology wherever we can – to save money, reach students through distance learning, improve contact in large lecture courses through "clickers," and the like. But when it comes to difficult conversations about diversity and inclusion, it is best to approach communication in the old-fashioned way. Individual uses of the Internet for comfort and advice are rampant and our students know precisely how to mine the web for ideas and data about race, ethnicity, and difference. But Internet advice and even online relationships are no replacement for face-to-face discussion on campus, where the students actually live. They do not live online, and we all know it. They live with other human beings in confined spaces, and the online world has not prepared and will not prepare them for the complexity of being with physical others. While web discussions are helpful, they are no substitute for courageous in-person conversations, and nearly every student I have raised this with agrees. They are, in fact, starved for difficult conversation on understaffed campuses, where everyone tells them to just "go look online" to solve their problems or get help.
Are women still part of “diversity”? One of the most interesting moments of our summit was hearing from a female student, on a panel of racially and ethnically diverse students. She argued that women's issues are lost in the rush to celebrate all cultures, and was baffled as to why. It is still, as it always has been, difficult to interest male students in "Take Back the Night" rallies or discussions of gender inequality. Women students and faculty note a common view on their campuses that issues of female equality and oppression are old hat, and should take a back seat to other struggles for justice. Can't women pretty much do what they want, with some hard work, tenacity, and flair? Look at Hillary Clinton or Sarah Palin or any number of women leaders in corporate America, in the media, and in the higher reaches of sports management. Well, the great equality hasn’t reached that far, when only 3 percent of Fortune 500 CEOs are women, and only 14 percent of research university presidents are women. Keep the "woman conversation" front and center in the discussion of diversity, and you will be addressing the ambitions of well over half the students in American higher education today.
At the end of the summit, we left feeling inspired and engaged, in part because of the fellowship and because the last panel was composed of students. We were so proud of them – their courage and their leadership. We don’t rely on them enough to teach us, and they are the ones who make us more sophisticated about difference. Students also underscore the nature of the work ahead, work that seems harder than ever because the last few miles are more complex to tread. Outright discrimination is fading, and hatred is more subtle and nuanced, as so many social scientists have demonstrated. We can tackle it still, and improve both weather and climate, but not unless we make the time for introspection and conversation, between the summits.
Susan Herbst is chief academic officer for the University System of Georgia and professor of public policy at Georgia Tech.