The Invisible Adjunct continues to persuade me that a PhD in the humanities is a bad idea. Well, shit.
Having already gone through the ardors of a useless graduate professional degree, I know all too well what risks are involved in entering a PhD program. Unlike academia, my former field (divinity) is well aware of its “recidivism rates” and the danger of having mostly second career applicants. It’s aware, but it’s yet to do anything, even as it bemoans the return of genteel poverty for the clergy, a career path that once promised a comfortable middle class life. And even though most seminaries don’t care that they contribute to the problem–tuition pays the bills, after all–they at least know that they should care and wish that they did.
Not so with the humanities. It seems critique only comes from the edges. Perhaps its because many academics are stuck in the synthetic-conventional and individuative-reflective stages of development (wholly adolescent stages, by the way). Perhaps the absence of a tradition of prophetic self-critique is to blame. Perhaps only shits get tenure. I don’t know.
The Invisible Adjunct writes that
…if you have the passion and the interest to stick it out and finish the degree, you will probably also experience a kind of unalienated labour. You’re not punching a time clock and putting in X number of hours to earn X number of dollars. No, no, you have your “work,” and your work becomes an important part of who you are. You will develop and deeply internalize an identity as someone who does/as someone who is this work.
In theology, a principle part of prophetic critique is the knocking down of idols. Liberal modernist theologian Paul Tillich defined idolatry as the elevation of objects of (however) limited concern to the place of ultimate concern. Insofar as idols cause harm and take on a life of their own, they can be described as demonic. (Aside from the fact that “idolatry” and “demonic” are scary God words, they can be used quite effectively by a/theists such as myself.)
Perhaps one idol of the humanities is the myth of unalienated labor. In my charismatic days, we described this a “living in the Spirit” and “holiness.” Pietist traditions refer to it as “practicing the presence of God.” I suspect marxist and sentimentalist/romantic traditions use “unalienated labor” to describe the same experience, what psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi described as “flow.”
My hunch is that the search for unalienated labor in academia is no less a spiritual striving than the traditional religious varieties. It’s certainly selfcraft. If it has identifiable practices, considered self-narration, and source texts, it might even be a virtue tradition in its own right.
But what if it can’t be done? What if unalienated labor is only a fleeting peak experience, not easily replicable? What if it is possible, but only for a few exemplars/saints/boddhisatvas? Wouldn’t the humanities then be selling a lie?
The spiritual practices of pietism revolve around introspective self-flaggelation. Pietism sets up (near) impossible moral goals for its practioners and then blames them for falling short of the mark, a failure they are expected to internalize. Have the humanities adopted some pietist strain for its struggling graduate students? After all, it’s not the department’s fault it you (and many/most of your peers) don’t get a tenure track position, now is it?
The promise of unalienated labor is particularly appealing to twenty- and thirty-somethings. (Isn’t about time for another book on “quarterlife crisis” or the “age thirty transition?”) Almost every catch-up session with an old friend involves talk of what we want to be when we grow up, now that we’ve come face to face with alienated labor. The idyllic life of the idealized academic harkens back to simpler times–when a PhD could be at one with their work and at peace with the world–times which may have never existed in the first place, but times that academia hold out implicitly as the just reward for PhD work.
Interesting comment. The more I think about it, the more I realize that the closest I’ve come to “unalienated labour” was through the experience of pregnancy, childbirth and breastfeeding. That was pretty much “unalienated,” and at times frighteningly so. It made me fear for the loss of individuality and autonomy: in short, for the loss of a modern sense of self. Turns out the loss was only temporary, I came back with a vengeance, as cranky and critical as ever.
University reform
My pre-occupation with renovations has meant that my eye has slipped from domestic public policy issues. Maybe they’ve gone quiet
I hate to be a pain, but I’m pretty sure that neither academic life nor rearing an infant fall under unalienated labor. This isn’t meant to denigrate either as much as to point out what would constitute unalienated labor (on my understanding at least) as well as point out the spheres of human activity the term doesn’t cover.
First, whether or not labor is alienated isn’t a matter of one’s disposition towards what one does–just as whether one is exploited or not isn’t a function of how much one earns; rather, it’s a consequence of the system and conditions under which one works. I may like what I do under the division of labor very much, but in that it is my exclusive function in the economy from which I turn at my risk, my labor is alienated. That academic work holds out the promise of doing what you love is fine, but in so far as there is the compulsion or felt necessity to do so, ie, in the words of Invisible Adjunct, “when you do go fishing, you can’t really fish, because you’re too busy fretting about the criticism you should be doing instead,” your labor stands as a alien power over you and is alienated labor precisely on Marx’s account. The internal dynamics of how one experiences this may not be–and likely aren’t–felt as economic compulsion: I’m not going to say that you feel this way because you’re directly concerned about whether you’ll have your contract renewed for the coming academic year or that you feel another paper might give you the chance for a tenure track position. But regardless of the particular subjective content, the compulsion to maintain a particular role is sustained and reinforced by organization and institutions formed (or maybe deformed) by the division of labor.
And speaking of the division of labor, I’m going to be late for my daily bout of exploitation unless I’m out the door now. Fortunately, once there I’m not very well supervised, so more in a bit.
OK, back.
As far as nurturing an infant goes, even the most benighted vulgar Marxist (who might very well be me) would have to admit that pregnancy, childbirth, and breastfeeding are all human activities that are prior to, ie, are not constituted by, the division of labor. The state of technology and capitalist organization can impinge upon them, even drastically–eg, unnecessary caesarians, encouraging the use of formula rather than breast milk–but…well, hmm, unnecessary caesarians are ghastly, and can’t be completely put down to material/economic forces (unless you count purblind medical patriarchy as a material/economic force). So much for a strictly old-fangled about child rearing being strictly prior to society. Sorry. OTOH, that it’s not strictly prior to society does mean that it can be an alienated activity or experience. Hell, maybe the unnecessary caesarian should be the paradigm of alienated experience.
My apologies if this has decended into terrible gibberish. A bête noir of mine is the loose use of certain Marxian terms. Maybe–well, probably–a division of labor where alienation is transcended is impossible (and I believe the transcendence of alienation under a division of labor is the point of the famous/notorious passage about fishing in the morning, criticizing in the evening; specialized activities and production are still necessary, but they no longer dictate the identity of an individual), but a vision of what life beyond alienation might be is necessary to understanding the dimensions of what our actual alienation is.
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Not to sound snarky, but: I’m not a Marxist, and don’t feel bound to use Marxian terms in accordance with your interpretative framework.
When I speak of alienated versus alienated labour I am speaking (in an admittedly loose way) about the relationship between the labourer, his or her labour, and the product of that labour. Unalienated labour refers to labour and its product as a kind of self-expression of the labourer. There probably isn’t any example of purely unalienated labour, but I do think there are degrees of alienation. Flipping burgers at McD’s, eg, is a more alienated form of labour than writing a poem.
My point about the academy is that is does hold out the promise of something that comes close to unalienated labour, and sometimes even briefly delivers on this promise. This is one of the main reasons for its hold on people (god knows it’s not the money!). But it does so within the context of conditions of growing exploitation and alienation.
I don’t get why you would see a c-section as the paradigm of unalienated labour when you refuse to allow pregnancy and birth as forms of unalienated labour?
Sorry — I meant c-section as paradigm of alienated labour
It may be that unalienated labor is an “idol of the humanities,” but a couple of points are worth acknowledging:
1. Most of us on the margins of academia don’t need to fantasize about ‘unalienated labor.’ We can just look down the hall, at, for example, the professor who got tenure 30 years ago without a Ph.D. and who has never published. At the faculty who haven’t taught a first-year course in a decade, yet still insist on micromanaging the curriculum. At faculty who have never taught more than 2 courses in a semester. There is an extensive debate on professionalization in the humanities that actually dates this with some accuracy, and it’s within my lifetime.
2. I don’t know what discipline in particular you’re thinking of, but the idea that there’s an ‘absence of prophetic self-critique in the humanities,’ especially in the literature departments, doesn’t seem especially accurate.
3. It’s also not even accurate to say that this critique only comes from the edges; after all, each of the last 3 or 4 MLA presidents have taken up precisely this problem. The problem is that there’s a split between what’s good for the institution (more graduate students & adjuncts = low labor costs) and what even the faculty increasingly recognize as what’s good for the discipline, for the faculty, and for those self-same graduate students.
Thanks again for the interesting post!
All the best,
Jason
I’m thinking about the administrivia and general ethos of the humanities than any one discipline or professional organization. Whatever extent the debate extends to, it hasn’t translated into changed practices. It isn’t a matter of what’s good for the disciplines or the faculty; it’s a matter of what’s ethical treatment of graduate students. Expecting graduate students to risk probable genteel poverty for the sake of the disclipline and the faculty is precisely the problem.
Remember its all schizo as wel as alienated
marketing seeks to direct consumption by offering to indulge your desires
that is consumption of goods produced by alienated labour
this i weird division, some can do it pragmatically, some can fake it, some actually enjoy it (alienation that is)
me? I can’t do it, i can’t fake it, and i have no idea if would enjoy it
The ‘authentic’ me is rejected by Mr Economy even as he (seeks to) make(s) me.
Its a battle i can only loose