The concept of hospitality undergirds the very reason for the
academy.
JOHN B. BENNETT is Provost and Senior Vice President for Academic
Affairs at Quinnipiac University in Hamden, Connecticut. He has
published widely on administrative and ethical matters in higher
education.
A key virtue for the academy is hospitality -- the extension of self
in order to welcome the other by sharing and receiving intellectual
resources and insights. This intellectual and moral virtue is essential
to the work and success of the academy.(1)
Admittedly, my view is not a common one. Hospitality is often taken to
mean a bland congeniality. As theologian Henri Nouwen notes, for many if
not most of us, hospitality suggests "tea parties, bland
conversations, and a general atmosphere of coziness."(2)
Within the academy, hospitable individuals are often scolded for
being "soft" on standards and inclined toward compromise
rather than standing forthrightly for intellectual rigor and excellence.
Organizationally, being hospitable does not fare any better. It is
usually associated with hotel/restaurant management programs rather than
with goals for every program, school, or institution. Instead of
modeling hospitality, disciplines and departments may contain deep
ideological and personal divisions. Departments and schools often
struggle with each other over resources or prestige, and many
institutions seem themselves to be locked in competition for students
and standing. In fact, in academe the concept has lost much of its
original power. But as Nouwen observes of its broader importance,
"if there is any concept worth restoring to its original depth and
evocative potential, it is the concept of hospitality."(3)
Intellectual Hospitality and the Academy
An indispensable characteristic of healthy learning communities,
intellectual hospitality involves welcoming others through openness in
both sharing and receiving claims to knowledge and insight. The sharing
is marked by considerateness toward others and recognition that others'
distinctive individualities and overall experience are inherently
relevant to their learning. The receiving is marked by
awareness that however initially strange, the perspective of the other
could easily supplement and perhaps correct one's own work or even
transform one's self-understanding. Hospitable educators know that
adverse evidence may have been overlooked, that the potential for
self-deception always accompanies the desire to support one's position,
and that different and even foreign perspectives can provide
breakthroughs in understanding,
Throughout learning, being intellectually hospitable means being open
to the different voices and idioms of others as potential agents for
mutual enhancement, not just oppositional conflict. Consider Michael
Oakeshott's metaphor of "conversation" for the work of the
academy. In the sharing and receiving of hospitality "different
universes of discourse meet, acknowledge each other and enjoy an oblique
relationship which neither requires nor forecasts their being
assimilated to each other"(4)
-- though they can be enriched and changed. Conversations include, but
are more than, disputes and quarrels, assertions and denials. Arguments
are used constructively to clarify issues, not to vanquish opponents.
The key point is respectful engagement with the other -- what Oakeshott
calls "acknowledgment and accommodation," not indifference or
conquest. Respectful engagement requires willingness to suspend initial
scepticism about the other as well as to put one's own cards on the
table -- to indicate one's own position and its support, however
vulnerable that makes one.(5)
We can distinguish between two levels of hospitable conversation.(6)
The initial and primary level is that of offering to share and to
receive -- disclosing information and dimensions of one's own
perspective on knowledge as well as attending respectfully to similar
initiatives by the other. This initial level of hospitality, of mutual
conversational exchange, requires that each hold in abeyance perhaps
strong views of the subject under review. The objective is not to
convert the other but to provide insight into the positions held. Only
when this occurs sufficiently is it appropriate and fruitful to move
into the second level, the provision of feedback on the positions
exchanged -- the sharing of analysis and criticism, offered in the
effort to move toward a testing and deepening of the insights under
review as well as those that may well emerge through this process.
Intellectual hospitality includes but goes beyond being courteous and
civil. Acts of courtesy and civility can be used to limit or even avoid
interaction with others on difficult or controversial subjects -- thus
continuing rather than correcting inhospitable customs and traditions.
Familiar examples include the "civil" refusal to review
curricula or even traditional course assignments, for fear of upsetting
comfortable arrangements and reigniting turf wars. Some educators enter
into tacit agreements to isolate and ignore rather than confront
colleagues who repeatedly shirk service obligations, neglect or abuse
students, or abandon the ongoing scholarship that energizes and informs
teaching. Civil truces among warring parties may be good, but they can
involve an expensive denial of the greater good that comes only with
efforts to address the common welfare. In any case, being intellectually
hospitable is certainly not simply "being nice."
Being hospitable means refusing to insist upon one's own terms. It
means relinquishing protective and controlling mechanisms, and
abandoning careful calculations about the quantity of good one extends
over against what one anticipates receiving. Being academically
hospitable means treating others, at least initially, as one's
intellectual equals, letting them know they matter as fellow inquirers,
and working toward mutual interaction and reciprocity. It means
recognizing that even strangers could be colleagues. Conducted with
generosity and reciprocity, such openness is what being hospitable
means, and it promises the possible transformation and fulfillment of
both host and guest.
It can be quite difficult to sustain engagement with the other in a
spirit of generosity, charitableness, and reciprocity. Both effort and
desire for success are required. Additionally, without at least an
implicit relational framework within which reciprocity and mutual
appropriation are conceptually possible, sharing and receiving may
appear either as impossible or as betrayal and theft. Yet, as Michael
Oakeshott observed, conversations do occur without
incomprehension or imperialism -- something that can be explicated only
through a prior and underlying relational framework. In fact, it is
precisely in contrast to the mutuality of relationality that
exploitation and dominance are seen as oppressive realities.
However eclipsed by organizational bureaucracy or by individual
indifference or aggressiveness, relationships marked by hospitality
remain fundamental to the work of the academy. The practice of
hospitality is an epistemological necessity. Genuine hospitality
recognizes a multiplicity of persons and gifts; it is a witness to
contemporary pluralism; it acknowledges the provisional character of
knowledge, that through the help of the other the best today may be
replaced by a better tomorrow. Without the mutual openness and
reciprocity of hospitality, teaching becomes mechanical transmission of
data, learning becomes receipt of information without internal impact,
scholarship falls into lifeless and isolated inquiry, and service
deteriorates into quid pro quo arrangements. Hospitality's
mutual openness to others in sharing and receiving is an essential
condition for a vigorous and lively academy. Let us look in more detail
at how this is so.
Teaching, Scholarship, and Service
It is intellectual hospitality that is the foundation of the
traditional three-fold functions of academics -- teaching, scholarship,
and service (though these are shorthand ways of speaking about one
complex activity, not three discrete ones). Hospitality in teaching
involves asking the "right" questions of others. These are
questions that "draw out" students so that their own
experience becomes a valuable and respected resource enabling them to
find their own voices, to be true to their own experiences, talents, and
identity. Whether student, faculty or administrative colleague, the
other is always a concrete, not a generalized, other -- an individual
with a unique mix of experience and talents. As a consequence, the
relationships of learning are rich and complex. They are trilateral --
hospitable teaching is always more than just an instructor teaching
students. Students teach each other and the instructor as well.
Because teaching is a public act, even in a sheltered and shuttered
classroom, many faculty find that there are more ways to fail than
succeed, and they can be regularly shadowed by fear. The diversity of
students and issues that instructors face can enrich us and draw us out
of our own parochialism even as it also confronts us with our
limitations. It can enlarge our sense of reality even as it tempts us to
reduce others to versions of ourselves -- or, even worse, to treat
students as objects for sarcastic comment. Hospitable teachers work with
the students they actually have, not ones they might wish for. They work
for the good of those they are entrusted to serve, even as they struggle
with uncertainties about how best to do that.
Hospitable instructors also witness to the personal value and
usefulness of the learning they promote. Their learning makes a
difference in who they are as well as what they do. Excessive
abstraction -- from application to self, for instance -- creates inert
knowledge, thwarting the mutual enrichment that defines hospitality.
Hospitable teachers attempt to integrate, rather than separate, their
personal and professional lives. They practice what they preach,
demonstrating the worth of their learning and showing how it has
personal value now.(7)
Hospitality in scholarship means paying careful and
disciplined attention to something different from ourselves, reflecting
on how it might be an avenue into the world, not away from it.
Inquiry demands attention to something outside ourselves -- something
that makes claims upon us. We are challenged to find ways to share with
others our perceptions of this reality -- ways that are sensitive both
to them and to it. Fidelity to language and other symbol systems that
are themselves faithful to experience is required. Understood this way,
scholarship and creative activity relate us to, rather than separate us
from, colleagues, students, our institution, and the broader community.
Practicing hospitable scholarship provides faculty a way to do
themselves what they ask of their students -- to integrate the
theoretical and practical, thought and feeling, the intellectual and the
personal, research and the larger purposes of education, in the ways
just discussed. Without this integration of living and learning, the
familiar call for life-long learning appears hollow. Without attending
to their own integration, educators endorse by default the
anti-intellectual position that education is only credentialing. When we
do not allow our learning to make a difference in who we are, we
announce that learning is really only a mechanical thing -- of
instrumental value, perhaps, but not something to share with others as
personally treasured and constitutive of self.
The relationship of hospitality to the constant movement in academe
between community and solitude also bears on service.
Hospitality means that ultimately the sharing of insights between self
and other is service to a larger community. Without teaching and
scholarship serving a broader common good, commitment to truth seems
incomplete. For that reason, any distinction between intellectual
hospitality and hospitality as such is only preliminary. To regard
intellectual hospitality as a different, more esoteric or more valuable
kind of hospitality continues the separation between inner and outer,
private and public that hospitality seeks to overcome.
In this sense, service is an inclusive category -- it points to the
commitment to establish and uphold the conditions that make for teaching
informed by scholarship and for the integrity of one's discipline. It
reminds us of the self-regulation required of any profession --
attention to and responsibility for the conditions in which education
can occur and learning be facilitated. Service is the inclusive category
insofar as it elevates the professional obligation to make hospitality a
constitutive element of all teaching and research.
Of course there are degrees of hospitality. Personal capabilities ebb
and flow; external circumstances help or impede. Many relationships are
necessarily limited and temporary, and only a few may permit more
extensive cultivation. However, to attend to the values of others need
not mean embracing them; it is enough to consider them -- but on their
terms, not one's own. Almost always this means engaging the other in
honest, critical dialogue whose goal is to clarify meaning, not to win
or establish superiority. Because being hospitable at this fundamental
level can be extraordinarily difficult, it is easy to give up out of
self-protection or laziness -- or even because of philosophical
perplexities and confusions that stem from inadequate concepts of
ethics.
Situating a Collegial Ethic of Hospitality
In many ways our age is defined by the contrasting positions of
scientism and various forms of postmodernism. In either position,
education often appears to lack enduring and compelling reasons for its
own activity. Norms by which it might judge inherent excellence seem
weak and relativistic. When those in the academy insist upon the primacy
of the so-called value neutrality of scientific objectivity or when they
deconstruct all formal frameworks of understanding, they abandon grounds
from which to argue for their own concerns and positions. Why should the
public, or academics themselves, support an enterprise whose fundamental
purposes and values are not defensible in scientific terms or are
regarded as relative to each person and his or her economic and social
class? As a method requiring careful replication of results by others,
science is indeed hospitable. But as a larger, exclusive worldview,
science cannot in its own terms account for its value; and if, as some
postmodernists claim, reality is no more than what each individual or
community holds it to be, then educators can hardly claim special
authority or ask support from the public.
Without an encompassing framework within which issues of social
recognition and control can be located, ethical analysis and behavior in
academe are reduced to the utilitarian management and adjudication of
differences. When academics authoritatively declare the universal lack
of authority of encompassing frameworks, pragmatic decisions or contests
of power become the only alternatives. Issues must be constantly
readjusted to the shifting alignments of interests and to the review and
revision of the tentative. For at least these reasons, the academy needs
the larger framework that implementation of the concept of hospitality
provides. It is in this framework that different perspectives and
standpoints can be openly discussed, evaluated, and balanced. Indeed it
is only in discussions within this larger framework that individual
differences take on significance and personal transformation is likely
to occur. Differences become a source of new awareness and interaction
rather than a problem, even though enlargements are partial, never
complete.
Intellectual hospitality, however, is no license for muddleheadedness.
It calls for clear and thoughtful articulation of governing standards,
both as a courtesy to others and to determine one's faithfulness to
these standards -- even as it prompts regular reconsideration of their
adequacy. Being hospitable does not mean dwelling in constant
self-conscious doubt. It does require abandoning the self-absorbed
shrillness that often characterizes debate. Genuine openness to the
other entails curiosity about what one might learn as well as offer.
Hospitality means authentic, not feigned, interest in the other -- the
reality, not just the appearance, of openness. Throughout there is
appreciation that the best one has may indeed be surpassed by what the
other can offer.
Insistent Individualism
A major threat to intellectual hospitality is the well-developed
penchant in the academy for what I call "insistent
individualism" -- the disposition to behave in self-absorbed and
self-protecting ways and to put narrow self-interest ahead of the
welfare of others or a common good. For the insistent individualist,
personal status and value are correlated with increased self-sufficiency
and independence from others. Individual and social identity, worth, and
fulfillment are understood in terms of power to shape and control
others, to resist their power and to treat them as a function of one's
own ends.
These behaviors give the academy its reputation as an arrogant place
where fierce battles are waged over small stakes. Others become means
for the realization of one's own goals -- making insistent
individualists appear as self-enclosed entities, separate and unrelated
atoms. Openness is diminished and corrupted through fear that the other
will not respond -- or may over respond -- heightening one's own
vulnerability. Reduced to calculations of individual advantage,
hospitality toward others evaporates and with it the possibility of
genuine community. Insistent individualism is especially prominent in
the academy when faculty use their verbal agility and knowledge to
distance and exclude rather than welcome and include others. Individual
agendas predominate at the expense of attending to others or to a common
good. Two types of insistent individualists are especially familiar.
Some faculty are aggressive in their individualism,
constantly jockeying for privilege, power, and control. These
individualists seem to delight in intellectual combat, pursuing abrasive
confrontation in order to advance their own standing and reputation.
Their objective is to prevail and then to count coup. It is to talk and
to be heard rather than to listen. In her Possessions Julia
Kristeva describes the passive role assigned others -- a key strategy of
the insistent individualist. "I speak to you, you listen, therefore
I am. Listen to me in order that I may exist."(8)
For the aggressive insistent individualist, this is the fundamental role
assigned to the other: to confirm and reassure that he or she exists.
And in the broadest sense this is as far as the influence of the other
goes. No genuine interaction occurs.
To be sure, the audience can play additional roles beyond creating
and affirming the existence of the instructor. Jane Tompkins observes
that for many instructors (including herself for most of her career) an
audience is needed to reinforce that the instructor is smart. In the
broader sense, the audience confirms that the instructor exists: I am
heard, therefore I am. In more specific terms, though, the audience also
affirms one's intelligence -- an affirmation that Tompkins observes most
instructors crave and find essential.(9)
In both roles the aggressive insistent individualist needs others, but
not in any constitutive way.
Other academics are more passive in their insistent
individualism, desiring only to be left alone. They may be no less
crusty and defiant than the aggressively overt individualist, but they
are less flamboyant or strident. They forsake the bright lights of
combat and fame in order to pursue private interests, without the
distractions of attending to others. Some move their horizons in as
closely as possible, organizing life around the smallest, because most
manageable, unit possible. Colleagues are too unpredictable, and letting
them get too close means losing control. Better to be isolated than to
disclose the frailties of one's humanity.
There are many reasons for academic insistent individualism. Our
traditions celebrate the independent mind and we can construe that
independence in terms of difference and separateness rather than rigor
of thought. Graduate students learn early that academic success means
making names for themselves -- pursuing individual, not deeply
collaborative, accomplishments. Academic freedom is often construed as
protecting one's own initiative rather than defending the initiatives of
others or promoting fidelity to the object of inquiry. Organizational
structures can also reek of atomistic overtones and the typical academic
workplace fosters insistent individualism by rewarding individual rather
than team achievement. Throughout, the inhospitality of insistent
individualism can be seen as protection against the vulnerability and
anxiety of being an educator. Even the best of our scholarly
accomplishments are fragile and short-lived; the effect of our teaching
is often uncertain; and today's triumphs are no guarantee of success
tomorrow. It is no wonder that others can seem potential threats to our
intellectual safety. Domination and retreat appear as viable strategies,
despite their isolationist outcomes.
But insistent individualism can be toxic, with the sad outcome that
self-promotion and self-protection regularly turn out to be
self-renunciation, thus impoverishing the self rather than enriching it.
Self-absorption supplants the delight and empowerment that comes only
from authentic engagement with others. However devalued, relationships
to others cannot be eliminated and have ways of resurfacing. Instead of
the control sought, one becomes controlled by the need to appear
ruggedly independent. Remember the aphorism -- the typical faculty
member is one who thinks otherwise and (we can add) wants colleagues to
know it. Insistent individualism expresses and reinforces a way of
thinking and a conceptual structure inadequate to education and reality
alike. It can hardly be expected to promote enduring fulfillment and
satisfaction.
The Collegium and Its Substitutes
The relational self points us toward community. Constituted in part
by others, each self resides only in a context created by others. Within
the academy this essential context has traditionally been called the
collegium. It is the organizational and conceptual structure wherein
faculty and student experience is both shaped and expressed. This
community helps create the individual, though always with his or her
cooperation. We learn how to be scholars from others, and we draw our
standards and values as well as our knowledge and skills from the
knowledge communities in which we dwell. Our work is initiated,
critiqued, and sustained in discourse with colleagues. And it is in
these actions of mutual reciprocity that the community achieves its
identity. It provides the common ground that supports a
common good.
The hospitable collegium is a tertium quid, neither a
collective nor an aggregation of members. The former contains an excess
of uniformity. The latter involves a deficiency of connectedness and
represents a major challenge to the academy today. In an aggregate,
insistent individualists cancel each other out, each pursuing his or her
primary objectives in isolation. The common good is only the thin sum of
compatible individual goods rather than an object of prior reflection
and commitment. Aggregations mask a fragile truce, easily broken when
self-interest prompts. They reflect an implicit social contract --
individuals join together in order to protect and advance their own
interests. They do not establish a covenant with one another in
commitment to a greater common good.
Many academics "fall" into the social contract mentality.
Some, of course, enter the academy that way. But for others, age,
routine, fatigue, and fear of the other contribute to the insistent
individualism that develops. Many tire of constant battling -- preparing
and standing in readiness for it, waging it, or watching it being waged.
Surely Julius Getman speaks for others when he recalls entering academic
life expecting that "universities provided an opportunity for
caring relations, a sense of community, an atmosphere in which ideas
were shared and refined, an egalitarian ethic, and a style of life that
would permit time for family, friends, and self-expression."(10)
All too soon he found that hierarchy and competition dominated, teaching
and scholarship seemed removed from the concerns of humanity, marks of
professional accomplishment were elusive, and the personal meaning he
had expected was often beyond his grasp.
The Reality of the Collegium
What Whitehead called the fallacy of misplaced concreteness occurs
when a derivative entity is treated as though it were the more concrete
and fundamental reality. In the academy, the prior and more fundamental
reality is the covenantal community from which the social contract is
abstracted. Just as the insistent individualist is an abstraction from
the richer and more fundamental relational self, so too is the social
contract an abstraction. The collegium as social covenant is the basic
relational community wherein members are linked by a common promise to
attend to one another in joint pursuit of the common good. Douglas Sturm
gives expression to the notion of covenant community when he calls it a
structure of interdependence in which "each member is acknowledged
with deepest respect by all others and is nurtured and advanced by the
relationship. . . the common purpose served by all is to
maintain and enrich the association itself, but precisely because the
association is integral to their own self-development as social
beings."(11)
The collegium as covenant community is created and sustained by the
mutuality of promise and commitment to hospitality. These promises and
commitments are the ordering principles in a public compact. Embrace of
these principles confers the right and expectation of mutual criticism,
a public criticism of the common good and of individual contributions as
bearing on it for good or ill. It is precisely this avowed willingness
to criticize and be criticized with reference to a substantive concept
of the good, not just procedural rules, that creates and sustains the
collegium. The academic covenantal community is characterized by
reliability and faithfulness, an absence of arbitrariness and whim, and
a commitment to reciprocity as critical to empowering the self, others
and the common good. Membership is by participation, not simply consent.
As a covenantal community, the collegium forms and informs members in
the qualities of hospitality. For some members such formation is a
reinforcement of character traits already in place and practiced. For
others, formation in hospitality requires transformation -- a change
from rules imposed from without to dispositions nurtured from within. In
both cases formation sustains bonds among members -- forms of
connectivity marked by mutual respect, interaction, and reciprocity. At
its most hospitable, sharing involves disclosing inner parts of oneself
-- particularly aspects of the personal meaning and value one attaches
to the inquiry at issue. Such intimate disclosures may be rare, but
being hospitable means being prepared for them.
Being hospitable within the covenantal community involves willingness
to sustain the integrity of both self and other through interactions
that involve confrontation. Constructive critical interaction between
those with differences is a major mechanism for promoting community and
individual growth. Open and honest conflict that marks sincere and
searching disagreement advances the collegium. For this kind of conflict
is communal and public in character -- not competitive and private,
advancing only the good of the individual. As Parker Palmer observes,
"competition is a secretive, zero-sum game played by individuals
for private gain; conflict is open and sometimes raucous but always
communal, a public encounter in which it is possible for everyone to win
by learning and growing."(12)
Every collegium needs regularly to renew and extend connectivities
among its members. Healthy communities periodically review and repossess
(perhaps also reformulate and recharacterize) the warrants for knowledge
embedded in the standards of discourse they embrace. It is these
warrants that function to justify knowledge claims. If standards of
evidence reflect only the dead weight of the past -- if they are not
reappropriated, examined, and defended in ongoing discourse -- the
collegium dies. It lacks the life, energy, and integrity needed to
prosper. As Michael Oakeshott argues, educators must be
"continuously recovering what has been lost, restoring what has
been neglected, collecting together what has been dissipated, repairing
what has been corrupted, reconsidering, reshaping, reorganizing, making
more intelligible, revising and reinvesting."(13)
And members of the collegium must have an eye not only to the past but
toward the present and the future as well.
Hospitality helps constitute healthy communities in which members
support one another in the advancement of learning. The hospitable
collegium permits, indeed facilitates, sharing of intellectual space.
The healthy collegium constructively shatters comfortable self-images of
being secure in achieved knowledge. It permits the disorder that comes
when control is abandoned, for appropriate self-regard cannot be
achieved apart from regard for others that is incompatible with
controlling behavior.
However, there is no requirement that the collegium defined in this
way be coincident with the academic department. Counter examples spring
readily to mind. Many departments are fragmented and in conflict over
different ideologies and/or pedagogies. They may contain several
collegia and these in turn may embrace faculty in other departments or
schools. In the latter case, an informal but potentially powerful
collegium overlaps portions of a number of departments. Members of this
collegium are united by shared commitments to research methodologies,
pedagogical values, or service activities. Each member at least tacitly
covenants with others to effect the common good of the collegium and the
wider institutional environment in which it is located.
Conclusion
The process of nurturing and sustaining the hospitable collegium
takes time. There is no instant or automatic path. The cultivation of
academic hospitality demands individual acts of hospitality which become
habits, and then steady dispositions and ultimately a way of life. The
methods are multiple, though most involve small steps that require
conversion from insistent individualism to collegial professionalism.
Clearly, most of the academy falls short of the standard suggested here.
I do not think that hospitality comes easily to many. It must be learned
and worked at. But practicing hospitality does correspond to a deep
human need; it reflects the interdependence of things; it enriches
relationships and makes possible new ones; and it undergirds the very
reason for the academy.
Notes
1. [Back to text] This
essay elaborates upon themes developed in my Collegial
Professionalism: The Academy, Individualism, and the Common Good
(Phoenix, Arizona: ACE Series in Higher Education/ Oryx, 1998).
2. [Back to text] Henri
J. M. Nouwen, Reaching Out: Three Movements of the Spiritual
Life (Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1975), 66.
4. [Back to text]
Michael Oakeshott, "The Voice of Poetry in the Conversation of
Mankind," Rationalism in Politics and Other Essays
(Indianapolis: Liberty Press, 1991), 490.
5. [Back to text] For a
thoughtful, succinct analysis of the elements of authentic conversation,
see Michael A. Cowan and Bernard J. Lee, Conversation,
Risk, and Conversion (Maryknoll, N.Y.: Orbis, 1997), 84-91. In
conversation with Cowan and Lee, I have found support in much that I had
already begun to see, and have been helped to see more than before.
7. [Back to text] I
believe C. Wright Mills was making this point some years ago when
he wrote that the scholarly thinkers we most admire "do not split
their work from their lives. They seem to take both too seriously to
allow such dissociation, and they want to use each for the enrichment of
the other." To be a scholar, he argued, is to design a way of life,
to make "a choice of how to live as well as a choice of
career. . . the intellectual workman forms his own self as he
works toward the perfection of his craft." C. Wright Mills, The
Sociological Imagination (New York: Oxford University Press, 1959),
195-96.
8. [Back to text] Julia
Kristeva, Possessions: A Novel, trans. Barbara Bray (New York:
Columbia University Press, 1998), 169.
9. [Back to text] See
Jane Tompkins, "The Way We Live Now," Change
(November/December 1992).
10. [Back to text]
Julius Getman, In the Company of Scholars: the Struggle for the Soul
of Higher Education (Austin: University of Texas Press,
1992), ix.
11. [Back to text]
Douglas Sturm, Solidarity and Suffering: Toward a Politics of
Relationality (Albany: State University of New York Press,
1998), 43f.
12. [Back to text]
Parker J. Palmer, The Courage to Teach: Exploring the Inner
Landscape of a Teacher's Life (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass,
1998), 103.
13. [Back to text]
Michael Oakeshott, "The Study of 'Politics' in a University,"
in Rationalism in Politics and Other Essays (Indianapolis:
Liberty Press, 1991), 194.
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