The website “Existential Comics” is one of my very favorites. It has a great nerdish sense of humor, and it gets at some of the more complicated informal components of why studying philosophy can be such a challenge (i.e. is it possible that Kant actually wanted someone to understand the Critique of Pure Reason? Why is symbolic logic such a pain in the neck? Why are there so few women represented in philosophy courses? What’s with all the beards?). In one of their best comics, a handful of philosophers are playing the game Pictionary and arguing the entire time. In one of the panels of the comic, Jeremy Bentham, one of the theorists responsible for the development of Utilitarian philosophy, leans over to Martin Heidegger and says “Oh look at that, you *can* communicate in a way that is comprehensible.” It doesn’t have the same chortle-inducing hilarity to it when writing it out in a blog post, but what really caught me about this missive is that it reminded me that it can be quite difficult to take on a reading for which you may not have been part of the authors’ intended audience.
Huh? Heidegger is known to be a bit challenging to understand. Source: www.rugusavay.com
Take the article on Flores v. Arizona published by Thomas et. al out of Arizona State University in the Policy Futures in Education Volume 12. The article is an interesting one for a number of reasons, but for the purposes of this entry, I’d like for the readers here to think about the audience for the article; let me give a brief summary. The authors are writing about a landmark case in education out of Arizona; the case (Flores v. Arizona) is centered on whether or not a public school is obliged – via U.S. Civil Rights law – to provide instruction that supports English Language Learners (ELL). There is a brief description of the demography and language characteristics of the state of Arizona, a detailed legislative and legal history of the lawsuit/case, a comprehensive description of the data methods and motivations, and orientation on the scholarly research that applies to the case, and as a bridge to the conclusion, a lengthy detailing of neo-liberalism, its challenges, shortfalls, and its morphology in U.S. politics.
The sections on demography and language policy are clear. The growth of the Latino/a population in Arizona is substantial and is projected to rise, and many of the children in these families will be ELLs, so there is a clear need for more resources and planning to ensure that language acquisition instruction is provided to the populations that need it. Similarly, the history of the Flores v. Arizona case is straightforward and is replete with references to literature that supports the history of the case and the media attention it has received. The section on methodology comes as a mildly jarring turn: a discussion of the technical details of how research was conducted on the media attention on the case. There is a lengthy section here intended to orient the reader to the research literature, too, with a multitude of references.
Here’s where the fun really begins, though, in the sections on neo-liberalism. The writing is at once descriptive of the general political-economic philosophy of neo-liberalism and also the way it is intertwined in the developmental arc of U.S. politics in the last 30-40 years. There are sections describing the central problems of the neo-liberal state, the academics who developed the theory, and the characteristic markers of a neo-liberal state in the way its legislation and cultural posture foster the creation of a specific set of values (rather than serving as a moderator of citizens’ civil liberties).
The conclusion comes down to making a connection between neo-liberalism and the education-legislative footprint of Arizona as viewed through the lens of the Flores v. Arizona case. One comes away from the article with a sense that of what neo-liberalism is, what its flaws are, and how it’s connected to Arizona legislation. Also, the Flores v. Arizona case is used as a tool to demonstrate that neo-liberalism is a narrow window through which to view civil rights and education.
The connection here between the cartoon where Bentham gives Heidegger a hard time and the article is around finding an audience. While reading the article, I found myself wrinkling my brow, wondering why the authors continued to pepper the writing with the word “discursive” and undefined phrases like “appropriate education.” I kept finding myself wondering when the authors would say something along the lines of “we argue,” or “based on our research findings, we contend,” or some other clear marker of a formal argument being made. I read the article a second time, more slowly, making notes along the way to ensure I hadn’t missed something while looking for the argument.
What I realized is that I am approaching the article, and all of the readings for that matter, from a source of bias. I have a mental model, a framework of understanding academic literature, that requires me to be able to pull out a contestable thesis, and after thinking carefully about the article, I am left with the following possibilities: (1) the argument in the article is that the description of the demography, legislation, case history, and neo-liberalism is valid, or (2) that there should be non-neo-liberal ways of viewing civil rights cases such as Flores v. Arizona.
Neither one of those arguments is contestable, to my mind, and so I imagine that I’m missing some critical reflexivity, some sense of the community of practice in higher education research, and some general understanding of the audience of the article. Heidegger isn’t terribly accessible, but if you can be professionally socialized into the field of Continental philosophy, his work on defining what it is to “be” is fascinating, and is critical to the development of the field of existentialism. Similarly, I am reminded that the literature in the field of higher education will be a new journey, and one that will require me to develop a new set of analytical frameworks to appreciate and understand the efforts therein.
As for finding an audience, this article is a reminder that as I write, considering my audience will be critical to my success; as I conclude, I wonder if I’ve been able to hit the mark in that regard. The notion that “access” is a multifaceted concept is, I hope, one that doesn’t require much qualification. But as I process this piece of writing, especially in the context of the literature I’ve read recently on communities of practice, part of the “access” conversation, I would contend, includes the concept of making your arguments accessible as a scholar to those who would both follow in your footsteps and those who would use your work to influence policy.
REFERENCES
Melinda Hollis Thomas, Dinny Risri Aletheiani, David Lee Carlson, Ann Dutton Ewbank (2014). ‘Keeping Up the Good Fight’: the said and unsaid in Flores v. Arizona, Policy Futures in Education, 12(2), 242-261.
Stephen Taylor
Stephen received undergraduate degrees in General Studies, Computer Science, and Philosophy; earned an MBA from Humboldt State University, and studied English Literature as a graduate student at Harvard University. He is a professional member of the Association for Computing Machinery (ACM) and a regular member of the American Philosophical Association.