by Adam Strömbergsson-DeNora
The “Crisis of the Humanities” is a largely illusory concept insofar as it relies on the assumption that humanities graduates do not have practical skills. It is, rather, quite the opposite. A successful humanities major will have one of the most practical qualifications imaginable: an implicit understanding of imitatio.
Imitation, or imitatio, is an underrated social force. It assumes constant, patient replication of linguistic forms and ideas. Typically, these ideas have been, over time, themselves replicated. Imitation thus assumes a knowledge of that which preceded, not only in literature nor solely in history nor in philosophy. Rather, a body of knowledge that Dan Woolf, the Principal and Vice-Chancellor of Queen’s University, has called “a lake, rather than a river flowing into the present.” Woolf is here speaking of Elizabethan England’s (1558-1603) view of the past, but the image he presents is also one of the roots of the liberal arts.
With its emphasis on a broad course of study of what has preceded current generations, the liberal arts focus on presenting that lake in its full splendour. It also teaches students to form their own rivers by developing critical thinking and measured expression that is based on strategies and tactics that have been replicated for hundreds of years. Those skills create citizens: people able to criticize power, but more importantly who are able to show compassion with the humanity of their fellows at home, at work, and at play.
Our modern Canadian world insists that we are independent beings, but that independence might well lead to a loss of citizenship. Our emotions are embraced. Self expression is idealized. Progress is still a watchword. Most importantly, the past is more and more viewed as a useless appendage of our existence. To learn of the past is, at best, utilitarian: it will explain the mistakes of mothers and fathers of yesteryears.
I can recognize this utilitarian sentiment as I look over the faces of keen and bored youth alike in my introduction to essay writing discussion groups. I grant that the discussion is not quite as entertaining as I might think. The colon is not an exciting topic. It is the systems of language and writing, with their deep roots in human experience, that lend weight to every word and punctuation mark.
Knowing that rich history of language empowers individuals to better communicate. It is, I think, in this spirit that the Department of English at the University of Ottawa offers ENG 1100. As soon as that spirit confronts reality, however, it must stoop to remedial grammar. Somewhere in that important work of helping students with their grammar, I find time to insert a few appeals for my discipline, English literature, and its virtues.
My students are often studying social sciences or physical sciences. These disciplines, through no fault of their own, emphasize critical thinking without critiquing expression. Doing so creates excellent specialists with a depth of knowledge in a single field, a couple at most. Thus can I read a colleague’s accepted journal article from these fields only to gasp in horror at clunky style or poor grammar.
Aside from entering a plea for the necessity of grammar classes in first year university, I also plead for those who do not wish to enter the academy. It is fine to specialize, but most will be working in non-academic careers. Students must learn a multiplicity of skills for an ever-changing job market. They must also learn how to craft arguments to convince employers that their skills and experiences will be relevant.
That job market is, perhaps, too utilitarian. In the Canadian knowledge economy where university-trained workers abound, nearly everyone is replaceable. Efficiency, a value that has encroached into universities over the last century, creates a drive amongst students and professors alike to move quickly and to think quickly.
The irony is that speed in this economic sense is illusory when dealing with human events. Donald Trump, whose presidency in one way founders on this corporate desire to move quickly, is a poster child for this illusion. Closer to home, the previous federal cabinet (41st Parliament) sought to implement its programme through an aggressive legislative agenda, only to find something of a barbarian horde of lawyers waiting to launch Charter challenges, thus slowing the implementation of the cabinet’s legislation.
There are few, if any, racing boats in the great lake. We have to instead all come to terms with life happening; we must swim in the lake. The grammar and rhetoric course that I teach attempts, in its most idealized form, to imbue students from different walks of life with the beauty of a language and a tradition that comes down to us from the Vikings, Romans, Greeks and more besides. These cultures have, for centuries, reflected upon the vagaries of life and leave to us a rich legacy. This legacy widens our gaze and, it is hoped, connects us not only with the past, but with each other, for we are all swimmers in that lake.
My advice to students in my discussion groups is always a self-interested plea for my discipline, but it is equally borne from a desire to see them succeed as citizens and as professionals: take humanities courses alongside your current degrees. With 120 university credits to fulfill, a double major is within your reach and I challenge a social scientist or a physical scientist to find a liberal arts discipline that does not complement theirs.
This article first appeared in the Leveller Vol. 9, No. 6 (Spring 2017).
