What the %@#& Do We Know?

Few folks feel confident enough to substantively question the writing of scholars in the natural sciences or even, to a certain extent, in the humanities. But in the social sciences -- particularly in those areas related to government -- there seems to be less of a sense of deference to scholars' offerings. In a number of ways, that's healthy because it allows folks without formal training (many of whom have not had the opportunity to get formal training) to weigh in on some of the most important problems of our times. It causes us to wonder aloud sometimes, though, what the %@#& do we know, anyway, and why does it matter?

Particularly in the age of the Internet, it is possible for interested persons to do "research" on a number of topics and feel that they are informed. The cycle can be vicious, though, as the information that is available is not always credible, though much of it sounds quite authoritative. Combine this with the conscious and deliberate attack on intellectualism in academia from conservatives who worry that young adults are being indoctrinated by liberal professors, and we are left with a situation where much of the information relating to politics and society appears to be quite similar.

This blog, for instance, gets about 400 hits a week. There are others who read THIS WEEK via RSS, email, etc., but even so, it's a pretty small audience overall. Each week, we try to apply (sometimes explicitly, sometimes implicitly) scholarly principles to current events so that our readers see clearly the ways that social scientists (at least two of us, anyway) "read" these issues. We are rarely sensationalistic, almost never call anyone names (remember: the scholarly use of the term "racist" is not an attack, but rather a truism; we use it as an adjective rather than a noun), and, as a consequence, we have a rather limited reach.

In short, we are pretty boring by the standards of more visible media sources (both new and traditional). So why are you reading this? What the %@#& do you know?!

We hope that you read us each week because you value the unique contribution that scholarship makes to public discourse (not just our scholarship -- all scholarship). We know that many of you are academics, but many of you are not. If you are not, you have come to appreciate what we and other social scientists offer to the discussion of race, language and politics because you realize that there is an important process that is in place that separates our writing from the less formal (though often just as thoughtful) writings of those who are not trained as scholars and do not spend their lives working within that framework.

At the heart of the scholarly process is an understanding of the work of those who have come before us and a commitment to the methods that are accepted as valid in the disciplines within which we work.

Training for a doctorate involves both of those areas. The graduate school years in social science programs are spent reviewing and re-contextualizing previous research and learning the nuances of the various methodologies accepted in the field. The creation of new knowledge centers on the double-blind peer review process in which all scholarly publications are subject to anonymous review by other scholars (who are familiar with the history and methodology in the specific area of inquiry) who determine if the work is worthy of publication in a scholarly journal or as a book. This process takes several years from the initiation of research until publication.

So it is disturbing to hear someone like Michele Malkin (left), who has millions of readers each week (as compared to the handful that we have) state proudly on The View THIS WEEK (watch here or below) that she spent six months writing her latest book about corruption in the Obama Administration. Six whole months! From the perspective of an academic, whether we agree or disagree with the "findings," it is quite suspect to rely on any evidence so hastily put together and screened only for its ability to make money (rather than any external intellectual standards). But in the free market, Malkin (who has no advanced formal academic training) is considered to be an "expert" on politics (she was a round table guest on This Week with George Stephanopoulos last week as she promoted her book).



Sour grapes? Sure. We cannot assume that is not part of our frustration, but it is not about Malkin, Beck, O'Reilly and others simply being more wealthy than we are. Most academics certainly have the talent and opportunities to enter professions where we would make more money. It is more about the frustration of being exposed to (and subsequently internalizing) the idea that information is more valid when it is held to scientific standards and practices. That is, something published in an academic journal or from a university press is a "better" source than something published in The New York Times, which (because it has editorial oversight) is better than something published on someone's blog.

For instance, a blogger named budwhite called Frank Rich and others who, like us, believed that there should be a teachable moment in the Henry Louis Gates, Jr. incident "racial hucksters." (We argued that there should be but would not be.) The commenters (and he has a lot more than we have each week!) tended to agree with him, even though there was no evidence that he applied scholarly principles to his opinion. Budwhite has a compelling story (World War II vet, retired LA police officer, starting law school in the fall) that (we feel) provides him with important perspective with which to offer his opinion. While we disagree strongly with his position on this issue, it brings to mind an important question about formal education versus life experience. Both are valuable, but in what ways? Under what circumstances? Do budwhite's life experiences make him equally qualified to comment on race as folks like us, who have earned doctoral degrees in related fields and who have published and spoken widely on the issue? Are we, in turn, as qualified as he is to speak on the nuances of police action? Is President Obama (when he claimed -- and we agreed -- that the Cambridge police acted "stupidly" when they arrested Professor Gates)?

How do we weigh the value of such differing perspectives? As college-level instructors, we expect students to understand that there is a difference between writing by academics and non-academics -- no matter how "smart" the latter are. But it is not as simple as reviewing the qualifications of the author(s). Academics are are also human, we are citizens, and we have a right to advance our own personal agendas, as well. Some of us do so in our own social network posts. Sometimes we make a serious effort to adhere to academic principles in these spaces (as we do); sometimes we do not. That is, sometimes we just wear our "citizen" hats. But we believe that, like a boxer who is not permitted to get into a bar brawl, academics should always remain committed to engaging in dialogue that enhances democracy. In other words, though no one can never be wholly "objective," academics have a responsibility to strive for objectivity by holding firm to the process that separates what we do from what those not trained as social scientists do. Being objective is not the same as being neutral, however; that is a distinction that folks need to recognize.

So we take the time THIS WEEK to reflect, but also to ask you: What the %@#& do we know?! If you are an academic, what do you know? If you are not, why do you read our stuff (and/or other blogs by academics)? Do you read scholarly journals and books, too? Why (or why not)?

It will come as little surprise to you that it takes us between three and five hours each week to put this offering together. Over three years, that is a significant time commitment, particularly when you consider that it has virtually no positive effect on our prospects for promotion. If we spent that time engaging in traditional academic pursuits, we might have an additional peer-reviewed article or two, or our books would be further along. We spend this time because we are committed to making the scholarship about race, politics and language accessible and relevant to our readers. We do it to (hopefully) serve as a model of what thoughtful dialogue can look like in the blogosphere. (For more about why we do this, see our last foray into blogger existentialism, "Defining Our Role," from last September.)

We're not going to stop. We know from your feedback that you are out there and that you appreciate our perspective (even when you disagree). But we know that we could exponentially increase our reach if we were to be more controversial. We also know, however, that you do not want that. Earlier in the week, we posted a link to a very disturbing bigoted web site on the RaceProject Facebook page, and some of our "fans" expressed concern -- not over the content of the site (it is expected that such garbage exists), but because they felt it was beneath what we do to engage with such mindless drivel. While we made a case for occasionally posting such material, we appreciate the sentiment behind the complaints. Folks were saying that they are attentive to the RaceProject because what we do is different than much of the other commentary out there. That has been our goal since we started the Project in 2001. Happily, it seems that you feel that (for the most part) we are doing it correctly.

But hey, what the %@#& do you know?!