Author: hdubrull

We’re #96! We’re #96! . . . . Now What?

Now that the dust has settled and we’ve collected our t-shirts celebrating the fact that Saint Anselm College has broken into US News and World Report’s list of the top 100 liberal arts colleges in America (tied at #95), it’s time for a sober assessment of what our newfound status actually means. As recently as two years ago, Saint Anselm College was ranked #115. Last year, the college reached #106. Are we that much better than two years ago? What’s going on?

The short answer is that while we may be getting better, we’re not getting that much better that fast. In large part, our rise in the rankings has to do with modifications that US News and World Report (USN&WR) has made to its calculations. The weights in the ranking formula break down into the following manner:

Outcomes (35%)

  • social mobility (5%)
  • graduation and retention rates (22%)
  • graduation rate performance (8%)

Faculty Resources (20%)

  • class size (8%)
  • faculty salaries (7%)
  • full-time faculty with highest possible degree in field (3%)
  • student-faculty ratio (1%)
  • proportion of faculty that is full-time (1%)

Expert Opinion (20%)

  • peer assessment (15%)
  • high school counselor assessment (5%)

Financial Resources (10%)

Student Excellence (10%)

  • standardized test scores (7.75%)
  • high school class standing (2.25%)

Alumni Giving (5%)

These weights represent a change from last year:

  • Outcomes were upgraded from 30% to 35%. This was done by adding the social mobility category (5%) which is based on the graduation rates of those with Pell Grants. Graduation and retention rates were lowered from 22.5% to 22%, and the category of graduation rate performance was raised from 7.5% to 8%.
  • Expert opinion was downgraded from 22.5% to 20%. In the case of liberal arts colleges, this was mainly because the high school counselor assessment was nudged downward from 7.5% to 5%.
  • Finally, Student Excellence was pushed down from 12.5% to 10%. This change was accomplished by eliminating the acceptance rate (1.25%) and reducing the weight of standardized testing as well as class standing.

These changes undoubtedly played to our strengths and downplayed our weaknesses. First, we have always done rather well with outcomes. USN&WR measures this category rather narrowly, but in other rankings—Forbes, Money Magazine, and The Economist—which look at postgraduate experiences, Saint Anselm College always ranks fairly high in return on investment. In other words, our alumni go on to get higher-paying jobs than one would expect from looking at their backgrounds. Second, diminishing the value of the high school counselor assessment probably did us no harm; Saint Anselm College has a very good regional reputation but is largely unknown outside of New England. Third, lightening the weight of the student excellence category probably helped. Saint Anselm College is not terribly selective, while the test scores and class ranks are above average but not spectacular.

There’s no denying that the USN&WR rankings are problematic. They are a strange mix of fact and personal opinion. USN&WR claims that “hard objective data alone determine each school’s rank” but it relies on “expert opinion” which is hardly hard or objective. Moreover, the weight assigned to each category is arbitrary, the product of somebody’s opinion. One Thing after Another is not terribly original in pointing out these problems; one can find many criticisms of the rankings.

Having said all that, Saint Anselm College has earned this recognition, even if that recognition is based on faulty premises. The faculty, by and large, is conscientious and strives to do its best by students. For example, in recent years, the History Department has made a number of changes to the major—including the introduction of new courses, an emphasis on student research, and a stress on internships. And our department is not alone in making such changes. On paper, we are not a selective college. Nonetheless, we obtain good classes because half of our students come from Massachusetts which has the best public schools in the nation (New Hampshire, from which another quarter of our students hail, ranks very highly in this category as well). And we can see in the classroom the good results yielded by Admissions. The curriculum, while not without its defects, still provides students with a broad liberal arts education along with an appreciation for learning. Our alumni go on to lead valuable, productive, and fulfilling lives. Several years out, our former students earn more than graduates from our peer institutions. This blog knows all of these things first hand; One Thing after Another has taught at the college for over fifteen years, and it remains in touch with many alums. It is often satisfying to contemplate the works of our students and graduates. This blog won’t claim that Saint Anselm College has discovered some magic formula for success, but what we do here generally seems to work. We take above-average students and make them better. As we strive to improve, let’s keep in mind that we seem to be pretty good at undergraduate education; it might not be the worst idea to double-down on what we do best.

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Lefrancois at the Worcester District Attorney’s Office

Recently, history major Kevin Lefrancois ’15 got back in touch with the department to say hello and ask for letters of recommendation as he applied to MA programs in International Relations. We were really interested in his job at the Worcester District Attorney’s Office, so we asked him a few questions about his time there and how it intersected with his major in history.

Q: What drew you to Saint Anselm College?

A: I applied to about 10 different schools throughout the country. I had already decided that I would be pursuing a history or political science degree which helped me limit my options, but after visiting the school and quickly seeing myself walk across the quad and past the Abbey to attend classes, it quickly became apparent to me that St. A’s would be one of my top choices. I had attended a Catholic high school, which also helped me to feel more at home and lean even closer to choosing Saint A’s. Ultimately, the decision came down to the fact that Saint A’s was the only institution in my opinion that had a strong combination of devoted staff and unique course offerings for both majors. During Accepted Students’ Day I quickly struck up conversations with professors from both departments and saw their enthusiasm for their subjects which made me feel like even more at home.

Q: Why did you major in history? Did you think about criminal justice?

A: For me, history covers all aspects of a society including art, literature, science, religion, law and politics. I have thus always appreciated the subject. Also an astute observer of history may predict future trends. When I looked at the course catalogue and saw the range of topics, from Ancient Rome to the Modern History of Japan, I knew that I would be given the opportunity to expand my knowledge of the world in new and exciting ways. A fascinating aspect of history for me has been the development of law across different nations and people. Every country has its own way of judging morality, especially in the form of criminal justice. I had developed an interest in criminal justice during my high school years by participating in my school’s mock trial program. There I acquired insight into the basics of the American criminal justice system and how a trial is supposed to proceed. I quickly knew that I would love to work someday as an attorney who brought justice to others.

Q: What was your most memorable experience in history (or at SAC)?

A: The most memorable time for me at Saint Anselm College was the opportunity I was given to assemble the audio and presentation equipment for the Humanities lectures. The Humanities program was one of my favorite courses of study during my time at Saint A’s since it was then an extensive history seminar program that covered centuries of western civilization’s development. During these assembly sessions I was given the golden opportunity to converse with the professors and lecturers before they would address the crowd, giving me some key insights into various subjects.

Q: When did you first know you were interested in law? How did you get your foot in the door at the District Attorney’s Office?

A: I first became interested in law in high school, and I joined the mock trial team. Junior year I acted as an expert witness and had to learn to stand up under the examination and cross-examination of the prosecuting attorney, a challenging exercise in clearly articulating complicated legal concepts under pressure. This particular case dealt with white-collar crime, but senior year I had the chance to deal with a manslaughter investigation which kindled my true interest. I played the role of a police officer and had to learn forensic techniques by heart to provide expert testimony. I had a glimpse of the painstaking load law enforcement shoulders to prosecute a case properly. My fascination with law continued into college, and sophomore year at St. A’s I started looking for internships. My search brought me to Worcester, MA where I interned with the Worcester District Attorney’s Office for the next several years. I had a chance to impress the District Attorney himself with my work, and upon graduation I was offered a job.

Q: What do you do every day?

A: At first I worked as the Juvenile Court Administrator for the District Attorney’s Office. I worked with the Department of Children and Families, gang violence, drugs, firearms, and more. I organized the juvenile cases and assisted the attorneys in their trial preparation. In addition, I was a Trial Court Assistant, which involved presenting evidence, technical support, and in-court assistance to prosecutors. Usually I worked with homicide cases at the District Court level. After a year, I was promoted to Internship Coordinator in which capacity I interviewed, hired, and supervised hundreds of interns. I ensured that they had opportunities to handle casework, shadow attorneys, and otherwise have opportunities for hands-on education in the legal profession. Finally, I was also responsible for community outreach which often involved presentations at businesses, schools, and community centers within the county.

Q: What do you do on the Opioid Crisis Task Force? Do you feel like you are making any headway in this crisis? Do you focus on law enforcement, education, treatment, or some other aspect of this problem?

A: I worked with the Opioid Addiction Task Force created by the District Attorney. The Task Force was responsible for innovative programs intended to curb widespread drug abuse in Worcester County and was expressly tailored to community needs. Worcester County includes over 60 different towns in addition to the city, which meant working side-by-side with community leaders in all walks of life. I represented the District Attorney at many working meetings with these leaders. In addition I was responsible for the maintenance of the Opioid Addiction Resource List, which included rehabilitation clinics, hospitals, halfway houses, and other organizations that offer support to those suffering from opioid addiction. I especially focused on the families. We tried to walk a fine line between prosecution and rehabilitation of those suffering from opioid addiction, which included providing police officers with various alternative means of justice, such as education or medical support. Opioid deaths decreased rapidly in Worcester County, a strong sign of success. Our education initiatives were, in my view, particularly effective at a grass-roots level.

Graduating Seniors Remember Professor Shannon’s Conversatio Section

In addition to teaching history courses, some History faculty also teach in the first-year Conversatio program.  Because it is a required course for all first-year students, History faculty get to teach a wide variety of students with majors across all the disciplines. Four years ago, Professor Silvia Shannon had a particularly lively and engaged seminar.

Participant Theodore (Ted) Boivin ’18 described it “as one of the best highlights of my freshman year. We had a truly wonderful group with some excellent discussions on a wide array of topics, debating everything from ancient Greek tragedy to 20th-century bioethics, sharing diverse perspectives on the material.”

Four years later, the students still remembered the seminar and their experience together.  As Ted wrote, “While we were being lined up for the procession into the Honors Convocation [in May 2018], Andrew Bompastore and I noticed that, of the twenty-eight students who achieved Summa Cum Laude status this year, seven of us were all in Professor Shannon’s Conversatio section: Olive Capone, Maddie Dunn, Emily Garcia, Erin Krell, Olivia Thornburg, and Andrew and me. We took a picture to send to you as a Conversatio throwback with our thanks for such an amazing start to our four years! We couldn’t have done it without you!”

A Classics major and History minor, Ted is headed off to the University of Cincinnati for a PhD in classical philology (the study of the life, languages, and thought of the Ancient Greek and Roman worlds). Biology major and Neuroscience minor Erin Krell is pursuing graduate studies in psychology at the University of New Hampshire. Education Studies major and Philosophy minor Olive Capone is pursuing teaching positions in New York State.

All faculty know that the success of a seminar requires a combination of excellent teaching skill, careful listening, curious and engaged students, and a little luck. Congratulations to Professor Shannon and these class of 2018 grads on one great seminar.

Yet Another Post in Defense of History and the Humanities

Yes, One Thing after Another has been silent for some time. This blog has not been slumbering. Rather, our good blogger has been very busy performing a variety of tasks associated with his job, including research, service, and preparation for fall classes. Despite a very long “to do” list, One Thing after Another has been spurred to action by a recent article authored by Stanley Fish entitled, “Stop Trying to Sell the Humanities.”

https://www.chronicle.com/article/Stop-Trying-to-Sell-the/243643?key=m1JvRRyygNd0EHj5AaFoO0ti00iCHCUA2K5ZxC8dMYxDxHtupVA2vVdwCkhaYR63dmtqcHlDbzFCVllkSGhIczZsMXBNMGRlUVpJWFdFUjRSR1cxNS01VnN2SQ

Fish, who is professor of law at Florida International University and a visiting professor at Cardozo Law School of Yeshiva University, first attained prominence as a literary scholar, so he speaks (or writes) with some sympathy for the plight of the humanities. It makes sense to trace his argument before coming to terms with it.

Fish commences his essay by following the philosopher and political theorist Michael Oakeshott who, in turn, seems to be following Aristotle. Education, so the argument goes, should be pursued for its own sake, not some “ulterior motive” like job skills. Once education is inspired by ulterior motives of this sort, it is no longer education because it is no longer true to itself. So when the time comes for public universities to defend the humanities in front of the state legislature, these schools should admit that there is no defense—or at least no intellectually consistent defense that is outside of the humanities’ own frame of reference which is knowledge for its own sake.

Fish proceeds to demolish the various justifications for the humanities that are frequently adduced by its defenders.

  • To the belief that the humanities provide students with indispensable language skills that help uphold culture, hold society together, and produce knowledge, Fish counters that this is an “in-house argument” unlikely to sway legislators.
  • When confronted with the argument that the humanities are useful because they teach us important everyday skills (e.g. writing), Fish states that one need not study “Byzantine art or lesbian poetry” to learn those skills.
  • As for the idea that the humanities lead to the happiness that one associates with a “fuller experience of life,” Fish responds that years of study have not necessarily made him a better person inspired by the highest motives.
  • The argument that democracy needs humanities professors to guide it and that students who engage with the liberal arts are better citizens also receives short shrift from Fish; he believes the former smacks of “elitism” and “academic exceptionalism” while the latter is only incidental to a college educational (and questionable at best).

Better to admit that there are no defenses of the humanities extrinsic to itself than to build our citadel on sand or so Fish claims.

One Thing or Another has encountered somewhat similar arguments before. Some months ago, this blog responded to an essay by the classicist Justin Stover that also claimed traditional defenses of the humanities were both wrong and futile (although he made more of the fact that the humanities have always been about sustaining an intellectual class—something that Fish only alludes to). There is much validity to such arguments. After all, how can we declare that the humanities make us better citizens and people when Alcibiades, who learned at the feet of Socrates, turned out the way he did? (See the two above as depicted by François-André Vincent, who painted this scene in 1775.)

And yet . . . One Thing after Another is unable to capitulate to such arguments. Perhaps this blog continues to writhe like a worm on a fish hook, struggling against its fate, because it cannot accept the ultimate destiny of the humanities which, according to Fish and Stover, seems to be some sort of marginal place where lovers of books and arcane topics gather together to follow their cranky dreams.  In any event, this blog will leave it to the other disciplines in the humanities to defend themselves; what follows is a defense of history.

This blog will concede that it became interested in history for its own sake. And yes, if the study of history has given a fullness to this blogger’s life, that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s a better or happier person than other people. And maybe One Thing after Another has not been a model citizen. And sure, studying history was not indispensable to becoming a good writer—this blogger could have learned to write in many other disciplines. Having conceded all of these points, this blog still believes history is important and that everybody should study it. Why? First, because it is interesting, and since it is interesting, it can be the spur to learning how to read, think, and write. In other words, it is a convenient medium by which to teach all those skills that people need. Yes, the History Channel has gone downhill since its glory days, but do you ever wonder why there is a History Channel and, say, no Chemistry or Sociology Channel? Many people find history fascinating, and they will willingly write papers on the subject or read books about it when they might not be willing to do so in other subjects. Second, history shows us that the world has not always been as it is today. The discipline allows us to understand the different outlooks of various civilizations. That being the case, we can gain perspective on our own time and consider alternative modes to our present way of doing things. Third, history shows us how we got to where we are today. There is no understanding the European Union, the conflict in Gaza, or the Chinese government’s current outlook (to name just three contemporary examples) without some reference to the past. No matter where we live, we are in the middle of a long story with no beginning or end, but to understand the chapter we are currently reading, it helps to know the ones that came before. Finally, the study of history can sharpen our judgment of people and events. If we are careful, we can even make valuable analogies with times past. Learning these skills, obtaining this knowledge, and honing this judgment might be inspired by the love of history for its own sake (as Fish argues). But are these not valuable incidentals? Do they not have the potential to turn us into better citizens and leaders should we choose to be such? Is it not better to know a bit about history rather than be confined by both time and place, utterly bereft of any experience outside our own immediate ambit? One Thing after Another grants that these things could perhaps be learned outside the university—but the task of learning them would be that much more arduous. Perhaps the university is the place at least for history.

History Department Inducts New Members into Phi Alpha Theta

On Thursday, April 26, the History Department inducted nine new members of the Sigma Omega chapter of the History Honor Society Phi Alpha Theta. PAT promotes the study of history through intellectual and social exchanges between history students and faculty, and among historians.  Professor Sean Perrone welcomed the many parents, siblings and friends who attended. Current members Colleen Gaughan ’18 and Lily-Gre Hitchen ’18 read the oath of induction, and then presented certificates to the new members. We are honored to welcome the following students into the chapter. The following history majors were inducted:  William Bearce ‘19,  Thomas Gillespie ’19, Sarah Hummel ’19, Emily Lowe ’19, Tim Stap ’19, Gregory Valcourt ’19, Caitlin Williamson ’19  History minors included Rebecca O’Keeffe ’18, Andrew Shue ’18.

Eligibility for Phi Alpha Theta includes four courses in History, with a minimum 3.1 GPA in History and 3.0 GPA overall.  Members are inducted for life, and receive a one-year subscription to the The Historian.  Members are eligible for undergraduate and graduate fellowships, paper prizes, and participation in annual Phi Alpha Theta conferences. There are 970 PAT chapters across the United States and 35 regional meetings nationwide each spring.

What is “Patriotic History”?

In a recent article that appeared in The Atlantic last week, Eliot Cohen, the prominent political scientist, sometime public servant, and well known neocon, makes a case for “patriotic history.”

https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2018/03/a-modest-plea-for-patriotic-history/555500/

The essay starts with Cohen following George Orwell in making the following distinction between nationalism and patriotism. Nationalism is “the habit of assuming that human beings can be classified like insects,” while patriotism is “devotion to a particular place and a particular way of life, which one believes to be the best in the world.” The former, which Cohen associates with President Trump and the Make America Great crowd, is supposedly inferior to the latter. Why Cohen believes such is the case (aside from the fact that he evinces enormous dislike for the current occupant of the White House) and why he even chooses such definitions in the first place, are unclear. Indeed, a number of problems with his essay begin with the meanings that Cohen attributes to these terms—but more about that anon. Cohen continues by arguing that the failings of the current administration have inspired a renewed interest in civic education and particularly history as a means of inoculating the public against the corruption emanating from Washington, DC. He is gratified to note that history is alive and well in the United States, insofar as Americans have many opportunities to engage with the past. But Cohen believes that history and historians must be more mindful about encouraging Americans to understand and embrace patriotism. The kind of patriotic history that Cohen has in mind would not be some sort of white-wash. As he puts it:

Patriotic history does not have to cover up the dark pages of the American past—the cruelties and suffering of slavery and Jim Crow, the violence and injustice of the Trail of Tears or the massacre at Wounded Knee, the corruption of Tammany Hall, the follies of the Red Scares or Charles Lindbergh’s creepy America Firstism. But patriotic histories have a way of reminding us of what there is to celebrate in the American past—as when David Hackett Fischer reminds us that George Washington broke with British military practice in abjuring the floggings that could turn into death sentences, or when James McPherson points out that, in fact, the Cause—be it preservation of the Union or hostility to slavery—really did matter to many Union soldiers.

This history, he states, must provide us with heroes—complex characters from a wide variety of backgrounds who may have had flaws but can help teach us what integrity, intelligence, service, and self-denial are all about:

Patriotic biography gives us John Quincy Adams in every phase of his life, to include its end, when he took a lonely and principled vote on the Mexican War just before suffering a fatal cerebral hemorrhage on the floor of the House of Representatives. It gives readers Davy Crockett on the frontier and Audie Murphy at Anzio, and it also gives them Harriet Tubman rescuing men and women from bondage, or Chief Joseph of the Nez Perce fighting a hopeless fight for his people. It gives them complicated figures like Andrew Carnegie—strikebreaker and extraordinary philanthropist committed to building libraries across the country to give young people the keys to better futures.

Cohen stresses that, “All of us, but young people especially, need heroes, including the really complicated ones, and particularly these days, when character is in such short supply. . . . To know what heroes look like is also to know what craven or spineless or obsequious or merely unserious persons are.”

One Thing after Another will not deny that American patriotism is now in a bad way. Both the right and left would agree on this point but, of course, for very different reasons. Certainly, our political leaders have done a poor job of modeling the virtues and behaviors associated with patriotism. There is now much more concern with outcomes than process. Party has become more important than the republic. Even the armed forces, which seem to many people the last and most reliable bastion of patriotism in America, may not be able to sustain this role for long. Long-service professional forces committed to imperial ventures for extended periods overseas and often alienated from the main currents of metropolitan civilian culture may not remain patriotic forever. Such a situation threatens to produce a class of “centurions” (to borrow the title of Jean Lartéguy’s famous novel about French officers who fought in Indochina before applying lessons learned there to Algeria) who are tough, experienced, resourceful, skillful, intelligent, brave, and cynical—but more responsive to the call of a mystical brotherhood in arms than the democratic republic they serve. It is no surprise, perhaps, that Lartéguy’s centurions became praetorians who twice attempted to overthrow the French Republic (1958 and 1961).

There are, however, a number of problems with Cohen’s argument and prescription. For one thing, patriotic history has been tried before, and the results have not always been desirable. France provides an interesting example (again) because, like America, it too has been a democratic republic for many years. Under the Third Republic, patriotism was a mainstay of history education in the schools. In this context, one is reminded of the schoolmasters who were the so-called “shock troops” of that republic in its battle against the Catholic Church, great landed families, and conservative values. Armed with Ernest Lavisse’s The History of France (“our ancestors the Gauls were intelligent and brave”), these schoolmasters not only taught a love of the Republic and its institutions, but also devotion to the patrie. With its praise of Vercingetorix, Charlemagne, Louis IX, Joan of Arc, Bayard, Henry IV, and so on, this type of education was perhaps not so nuanced as the sort Cohen would like to see. One marvels, though, at the results. The patrie was literally manured with the corpses of hundreds of thousands of young Frenchmen between 1914 and 1918 as they fought Germans who had been educated in much the same way. Patriotic history was not solely responsible for this bloodbath, but it played its role. Lavisse, in his way, was part of that love to which F. Scott Fitzgerald, in Tender is the Night, famously attributed the colossal sacrifice of World War I:

The western front business couldn’t be done again, not for a long time. . . . This took religion and years of plenty and tremendous sureties and the exact relation that existed between the classes. . . . You had to have a whole-souled sentimental equipment going back further than you could remember. You had to remember Christmas, and postcards of the Crown Prince and his fiancée, and little cafés in Valence and beer gardens in Unter den Linden and weddings at the mairie, and going to the Derby, and your grandfather’s whiskers. . . . This kind of battle was invented by Lewis Carroll and Jules Verne and whoever wrote Udine, and country deacons bowling and marraines in Marseilles and girls seduced in the back lanes of Württemberg and Westphalia. Why, this was a love battle—there was a century of middle-class love spent here.

How can we ensure that a patriotic history does not become an aggressively nationalist one (at least according to Cohen’s lights)? Can the state, especially one constituted as ours, be trusted to conjure up Fitzgerald’s “sureties” properly and deal with the results in such a way that we do not experience another “great gust of high-explosive love”?

If Cohen’s patriotic history, which exposes the past “warts and all,” should not resemble something so unsubtle as Lavisse’s History of France, what would it look like? How would it convey its patriotic message? What exactly would that message be? To what degree would it look different from plain old history? And are we not already producing the kind of history that Cohen desires? Off the top of its head, One Thing after Another can think of Ron Chernow’s Grant and Louis Galambos’s Eisenhower (both of which were published in late 2017) as works that might fit Cohen’s bill. But since Cohen is not terribly specific about the form and content of a patriotic history that might suit the needs of 2018, it’s hard to tell.

With these questions unanswered, it also remains difficult to decipher which heroes to include in the pantheon of patriotic history. Who is a hero? Who is not? Is Robert E. Lee in? Is Eugene Debs? We can be sure that those who support the inclusion of the former in patriotic history would not look kindly on the latter—and vice versa. These questions are ineluctably tied to another: who should select these figures? In the same way that it “takes money to make money,” it requires patriotism to make patriots. We cannot remedy our deficiencies with supposedly non-existent material (unless, of course, Cohen and other self-appointed patriotic elites choose themselves for the task of resurrecting patriotism). Otherwise, a bitterly divided country suffering from a lack of patriotism is not in a position to anoint heroes without adding yet another battle to the protracted culture war that has consumed the United States for decades. From where is the universally recognized understanding of patriots and patriotism to come?

All of these questions stem from Cohen’s problematic descriptions of nationalism and patriotism which he obtains from Orwell. Orwell’s definitions appear in “Notes on Nationalism” (1945) in which he wrote:

By “nationalism” I mean first of all the habit of assuming that human beings can be classified like insects and that whole blocks of millions or tens of millions of people can be confidently labelled “good” or “bad.” But secondly ­– and this is much more important – I mean the habit of identifying oneself with a single nation or other unit, placing it beyond good and evil and recognizing no other duty than that of advancing its interests. Nationalism is not to be confused with patriotism. . . . By “patriotism” I mean devotion to a particular place and a particular way of life, which one believes to be the best in the world but has no wish to force on other people. Patriotism is of its nature defensive, both militarily and culturally. Nationalism, on the other hand, is inseparable from the desire for power. The abiding purpose of every nationalist is to secure more power and more prestige, not for himself but for the nation or other unit in which he has chosen to sink his own individuality.

Although this view of matters may accord with the way these ideas are widely perceived, the problem with this passage is that it turns nationalism and patriotism into bad and good versions of more or less the same thing: nationalism is aggressive and motivated by a thirst for power; patriotism is defensive and inspired by love. Both, however, are about one’s association with a community of people (which is really nationalism). Ironically, Orwell’s understanding of the difference between the two lends itself to a kind of double-speak: “we” are always patriots (peaceful and defensive), and “they” are nationalists (warlike and aggressive). It is partly for these reasons that most scholars who investigate the topic have rarely defined the two terms in this fashion. Generally, the most important distinction that those working in the field have drawn between patriotism and nationalism is that the former concerns one’s duties to the state while the latter is about one’s relationship to the national community (which is frequently defined and held together by forces such as culture and history). This is a position most identified with Lord Acton’s famous essay, “Nationality” (1862). More recently, Maurizio Viroli has made a very similar argument in For Love of Country: An Essay on Patriotism and Nationalism (1997), when he states:

The language of patriotism has been used over the centuries to strengthen or invoke love of the political institutions and the way of life that sustain the common liberty of a people—or love of the republic; the language of nationalism was forged in late eighteenth-century Europe to defend or reinforce the cultural, linguistic, and ethnic oneness and homogeneity of a people.

Viroli goes on to argue that nationalists can be patriots, and patriots can be nationalists, but the priorities of each are somewhat different. Such is usually the case, unless one lives in a country characterized by civic nationalism—that is, a nation (like the United States) defined by subscription to specific political institutions and not to a particular ethnicity. In such a case, one can say that patriotism and nationalism are extremely closely related if not identical. In America, then, patriotism and nationalism are not different names for a horse, one for when it is good, another for when it is bad (as Cohen and Orwell would have it); instead, they are two horses working in tandem.

Making distinctions of this sort are not acts of pedantry. They help us understand what our duties are and how they should be taught. A civic nationalism based on our institutions binds us to our fellow Americans while a patriotism based on our love of our democratic republic and the protections it extends to us also ought to bind us in duty to the state. It seems fitting, then, to conclude with a reference to George William Curtis’s oration to Union College’s graduating class of 1857 in which he pointed to one way in which Americans could understand their peculiar patriotism. In this speech, entitled “Patriotism,” Curtis made clear that we have several duties that could either contradict or complement each other. As people, we were “bound by the universal rule of right or of God” which meant that in “whatever country or whatever case a man may chance to be born, he is born a citizen of the world.” Such an assertion was in keeping with his belief that “the races are but one race” and that the “doctrine or practice of universal brotherhood” was the “ethical statement of a scientific fact.” A man, then, should not be “the best German or the best Roman . . . but the best man he can be.”

Patriotism was the “peculiar relation of an individual to his country.” It was, declared Curtis, an “intelligent love” that perceived opportunities where his country could help mankind. A person’s country, Curtis went on to argue, was a principle, and “patriotism is loyalty to that principle.” Every country served a different principle which contributed to the “cause of human development to which all nationalities are subservient.” In America’s specific case, that principle was not power (every country was tempted by its siren song), and it was certainly not riches (which Curtis believed had the potential to corrupt America). Rather, it was the love of liberty safeguarded by a commitment to democracy; that is, the spirit and values that underpinned the democratic republic. Curtis continued:

Patriotism in an American is simply fidelity to the American idea. Our government was established confessedly in obedience to this sentiment of human liberty. And your duty as patriots is to understand clearly that . . . whatever in its government or policy tends to limit or destroy that freedom and equality is anti-American and unpatriotic, because America and liberty are inseparable ideas.

The patriot’s duty consisted of obeying the laws of the state—only so long as they did not contradict American principles and thus violate the universal rule of right. Although he did not say so explicitly at Union College, Curtis asserted in other venues that American slavery, protected by the Constitution and the laws of men, violated natural laws. It was therefore the duty of every patriot who loved democracy and freedom—by definition every true American—to destroy the peculiar institution. Towards the end of his speech, Curtis had these words to say, as true then as they are today: “Remember that the greatness of our country is not in the greatness of its achievement, but in its promise—a promise that cannot be fulfilled without that sovereign moral sense, without a sensitive national conscience.” From this perspective, patriotism could be taught by history (and Curtis referred to many such examples), but it was mainly a question of ethics.

At the end of the day, then, the problem with a history that teaches a “devotion to a particular place and a particular way of life, which one believes to be the best in the world” is that it makes presumptions about a country and its people that are not necessarily true (one may believe something that is false). Moreover, such an attitude lends itself to complacency (if one belongs to a country she believes to be the best in the world, why change it?). One Thing after Another much prefers Curtis’s vision, which suggests that patriotism is a matter of eternal exertion and struggle for the sake of an idea that is imperfectly realized—a democratic republic. In other words, instead of defining Americans by who they are, Curtis seeks to define them by what they strive for. And that seems much more useful at a time when, to quote Villèle, the journalist who crops up in Lartéguy’s Centurions occasionally to make an observation, “The role of the utter, out-and-out bastard is becoming more and more difficult to keep up in this dull, hypocritical, tolerant world of ours.”

Furthermore, I consider that the myth of the unemployable History major must be destroyed.

Lowe and Warner Win Honors Summer Research Fellowships

It’s been quite a month for History majors Kelsey Warner ’19 (double-majoring in English) and Emily Lowe ’19 (double-majoring in Secondary Education) (left and right above). First, they won two of the three inaugural Honors Summer Research Fellowships awarded. Having obtained stipends of $4,000 each, they will spend the summer pursuing research projects at the college. Second, they are semi-finalists for the Fr. Bernard Holmes, O.S.B., Scholarship for the 2018-2019 academic year. One Thing after Another always stands ready to broadcast the achievements of History majors, and this is no exception. This blog caught up with Warner and Lowe so it could ask them a few questions.

Q: Why did you decide to attend St. Anselm College?

KW: I decided to attend St. Anselm College because of the community here. I had originally intended to go to Saint Michael’s College, but I decided to attend Accepted Students Day at Saint A’s  just to make sure I didn’t want to go there. While I enjoyed the various workshops, lessons, and classes, I didn’t feel anything in particular pulling me here. But, my mom and I stopped by Davison for some food before we left, and we ended up sitting with an incredible group of students and professors. In talking with these people and what they liked about the college, they all described the same feeling of being a family member on this campus and that Saint A’s was truly their home. Something clicked while I was talking to them. On the car ride home, I told my mom I wanted to come here, and my mom told me she could already tell.

EL: I was first introduced to Saint Anselm College through one of my closest friends from home. I came up to visit her often, went to various classes, hung out in the CShop, and attended masses here. When it finally came time to apply to colleges, Saint Anselm seemed like a natural fit. I had enjoyed the small classes and the academic rigor, as well as the ways in which the school helps students develop outside of their school work. Throughout my life, I was inspired by the teachers who were instrumental in my development, and I had seen so many adults on campus truly care for their students and take an interest in their lives.

Q: What attracted you to the history major?

KW: I originally came to Saint A’s as a Theology major. However, I filled one of my elective slots with a history class that seemed interesting: New England History with Professor Salerno. Little did I know it was a 300-level class filled with upperclassmen. Once Professor Salerno realized I was a freshman, she offered to let me to drop the class if I desired. Instead, I not only I decided to stay in the class but also participate in extra class sessions as well as an extra research project for the course as an honors-option. By the end of the semester, I had declared a second major in history because I was so intrigued by passion I saw for the subject in my professor and the enthusiasm of my classmates. I have always loved history, and it was so refreshing to be around people with that same level of passion for the subject.

EL: In high school, I really enjoyed my history classes. I had always thought I would become a doctor when I was older, but after taking lots of chemistry and biology classes, I realized I did not love it enough to make a career out of it. I came to college undeclared and realized I had loved history for a long time without even really considering it as a major. In Professor Cronin’s Freshman English class, we read an excerpt about a history class. While I was reading, I distinctly remember putting ideas in the back of my head for when I would teach a similar unit. The next day, I declared a double major in History and Secondary Education. Deep down, I think I always knew I wanted to teach, but it took me a while to actually commit to it.

Q: Why did you decide to accept the invitation to the honors program? What do you like about it?

KW: I decided to accept a spot in the honors program because I thought it would help me stay on track academically in college. However, what I have come to love about the program is that despite the various backgrounds and intellectual interests of its students, we are all connected by a love of learning and a desire to pursue our academic endeavors. I love attending honors events and just listening to like-minded people talk about their interests and sharing my own academic passions.

EL:  I spoke with a freshman whom I had met on campus who was an honors student, and she said it was a great program and had some pretty interesting classes that were not open to other students. That was all I really needed to convince me to accept the invitation. I even ended up taking Professor Dubrulle and Masur’s History’s Mysteries with this friend during my freshman year! Overall, the Honors Program has provided me with a lot of opportunities to work closely with professors and get to know other people. I became really good friends with everyone in my Conversatio section, for which I am so grateful. I don’t think I would have met a lot of those friends had it not been for that class, so I always attribute much of my happiness and success to the honors program.

Q: Tell us about your research project for the summer and why you’re interested in doing research in this area. What do you expect to learn from this project?

KW: My project for this summer is investigating how female regional writers are represented through the various historical lenses of literature, primary evidence, and public memory by examining the author Sarah Orne Jewett (1849-1909) as a case study. I’m interested in doing research in this area because I am an English and History double major and Gender Studies Minor. My favorite aspect of history is examining public history and specifically how it remembers women. The purpose of historical research, at its base, is to provide an accurate representation of the past to examine its context, the roles people played, and the implications it has on the world today. However, historical representation in museums has this same motivation but combined with the need to drive tourism and maintain a business. Museums often want to provoke interest in the past and sometimes make historical figures “relatable” or heroic.  Thus, the commitment to accuracy of the kind sought by historians may compete with other measures of a good narrative.  This same dynamic informs Jewett’s representation of women in her writing, because it is filtered through her creative mindset, and by her hope of publication (and her sensitivity to her critics and readers).  I will be comparing letters and diary entries of Sarah Orne Jewett to her literature and compare that to her home-turned-museum in Berwick, Maine, to hopefully learn if female authors are remembered differently in public history, and if so, why they are remembered differently.

EL: This summer, I will be looking at the 5th Regiment of New Hampshire Volunteer Infantry as a case study in the treatment of battlefield trauma during the Civil War. The regiment suffered more combat fatalities over the course of the war than any other Union regiment, making it a great subject for the study. I am really excited because this project will give me a chance to focus on research in a way that I haven’t been able to in classes thus far. Focusing on this topic for eight weeks will help me to get a firm grasp on the topic and expand my historical reasoning skills. Professor Dubrulle has an extensive knowledge of the 5th New Hampshire, so I am confident he will help my research make a meaningful contribution to Civil War scholarship in general. I wanted to take his Civil War class this semester, but unfortunately could not, so hopefully this research makes up for that missed opportunity.

Q: Both of you are double-majors and honors students. And both of you are extensively involved with a variety of extracurricular activities. Could you tell us something about what those activities are? How do you find the time to do all of this?

KW: I am currently the Director of Costumes and Makeup for the Anselmian Abbey Players as well as an avid member in various productions with the Abbeys. I am also a small group facilitator for the chapter of the National Society of Leadership and Success on campus and a New Student Orientation Leader. I’m the Junior Editor of the Yearbook and a research assistant to Professors Smits Keeney and Pilarski. I am the President and a founding member of the True Equality and Dignity Alliance (TEDA), the first Gay-Straight Alliance at Saint Anselm College. Finally, I’ve also worked various off-campus jobs while in college, including a 40-hour-per-week job as a Supervisor at Charlotte Russe last semester.

I don’t really know how I find time to do all of this. I think the reason I can participate in all these activities is because I am passionate about all of them. They all allow me to contribute to the community in some way. They add value to my life by teaching me something and adding to my happiness.

EL: The first organization I joined during my freshman year was the club Rugby Team. I play scrumhalf and wing for the team and will serve as the club president next year. I am also on the Honors Council and work in the ARC as well as the library. I am a leader for Anselmian 360 and an RA. Finally, I am teaching a class of high school students with Professor Greene Henning for Access Academy which has been such an amazing experience. Balancing everything can be difficult at times, so I drink a lot of coffee. I also like to de-stress by listening to music and running. Taking a break from school and just clearing my mind helps me to come back to my schoolwork more focused. In the end, I am involved with all of these clubs and activities because I truly enjoy being a part of them and helping them be successful, so it is worth it. Saint Anselm also has an incredible network of people around me to provide support. My friends along with the faculty and staff here are so supportive that I know I am never alone in my work.

Q: What is your home town? Tell us something about it that most people don’t know.

KW: My hometown in Somersworth, New Hampshire. Although I’ve only lived there for five years, I love it. Something most people don’t know about my town is that John Sullivan, a general in the Revolutionary War and delegate to the Continental Congress, was from Somersworth.

EL: I am proud to call Northborough, Massachusetts my home. Aside from its small-town feel and its amazing people, Northborough has a rich history. Northborough was originally a part of the City of Marlborough, but split off in 1775, following Westborough’s lead. Naturally, all three high schools are fierce rivals, with Algonquin Regional (for residents of Northborough and Southborough) being clearly the superior institution. White Cliffs, which is a function facility near my house, used to be the vacation home of Daniel Wesson who co-founded Smith & Wesson, the famous revolver manufacturer whose business really took off during the Civil War. The official spelling of the town is Northborough, but you can also spell it Northboro depending on your mood.

Furthermore, I consider that the myth of the unemployable History major must be destroyed.