"In fiction, the principles are given, to find the facts: in history, the facts are given, to find the principles; and the writer who does not explain the phenomena as well as state them performs only one half of his office."
Thomas Babington Macaulay, "History," Edinburgh Review, 1828
The History Department's Marla Miller, author of "Betsy Ross and the Making of America," has received a $10,000 "Recognition of Excellence" prize as part of the 2010 Cundill Prize in History competition at McGill University, the world's richest historical literature prize.
Congratulations to one of our leading public historians. Don't live in Amherst? You can watch her on Book TV here.
Congratulations to my friend and colleague Salman Hameed, who recently established a Center for the Study of Science in Muslim Societies here at Hampshire College.
Salman, an astronomer whose specialized technical research involves star formation (among other things) is also deeply interested in the intersection of science and public life (the position that he holds was designed to bridge the gap between the sciences and the humanities). He was always particularly interested and eventually developed an academic concentration in such phenomena as the popularity of pseudo-science (e.g. UFO theories and the paranormal) and the resistance to real science. The latter notably includes the sudden resurgence of popular opposition to the theory of evolution. We think of the phenomenon mainly in the context of the Protestant fundamentalist west, but as he has shown (see an earlier post), it is also a growing force in the Muslim world.
Here, a sample quote:
“There is an increasingly urgent need for understanding and education about Islam and Muslim societies,” said Hameed. “This is perhaps the only center focused on examination of intersections and interactions between science and Muslim societies, (both in Muslim-majority countries and in Muslim diasporas in the West. It will bring together scholars working across disciplines on a significant set of questions and issues.”
At a time when science is becoming increasingly important in everyday life and for economic development, it is important to understand how it is understood and taught, and the role it plays in various Muslim societies, where religion plays a significant cultural role, Hameed said.
“This relationship with science is complex, and increasingly so, as science is freighted with issues of colonialism, modernity and progress, as well as moral and religious implications.”
Read the full story here (includes radio interview). You can see more of Salman's work on Irtiqa: A Science and Religion Blog (also blogrolled with updates in the right margin of this page).
It is always puzzling and disappointing when institutions that proclaim their allegiance to "progressive" principles seem to act in contradiction to them. It is notorious, for example, that Whole Foods, which claims to care about the whole planet and your whole lifestyle, is not only expensive (that's why wags call it: "whole paycheck"), but viciously anti-union, and in many other ways, too, not so friendly to its workers, its customers, or the earth. When CEO John Mackey—who by his own admission went from socialist to capitalist when his workers demanded higher wages—notoriously said that we didn't need a public health care system, many of his customers demonstratively abandoned him.
Even my own employer, Hampshire College, is not guiltless in such matters. As I prepared to leave the office for Thanksgiving, this was the scene that greeted me in the lobby of my office building:
Students for the Freedom to Unionize had put up the banners to call attention to a festering source of controversy. More than a decade ago (a couple of administrations earlier, I should emphasize), there were some very nasty fights over unionization. When workers expressed a desire to form a labor union, the proper thing to do, it seemed to me—from both the principled and political persective—would have been to welcome and facilitate the move. Instead, the administration and various administrators fought it by the most vicious means, even indulging in what amounted to red-baiting tactics. The rationale: we are already progressive; we are more like a family than a business, so creating a union would "come between" administration and employees, breaking down our cherished sense of "community"; unions would make operations more expensive, thus hurting everyone by forcing cuts in positions or services. It has left scars and pains that persist to this day.
It's hard to say which direction matters will take (and I should stress that I offer no judgment on any specific current cases, for I have no direct knowledge of any of them). In the meantime, though, there are simple steps that faculty can take to begin to effect change in a college's social policy. A nationwide group of professors in the social sciences founded the Faculty No-Sweat network to ensure that official college clothing articles are manufactured according to socially responsible principles. The announcement explained:
As you know, thanks to committed activism by students and faculty, almost every university and college in the country now has a labor code that applies to the brands (like Nike, Reebok and Russell Athletic) that make university logo clothing. Many of these universities have joined the Worker Rights Consortium (WRC), an independent labor rights organization that helps enforce these codes by investigating working conditions in factories around the world that make university products. Thanks to extraordinary efforts by the WRC, student activists, and faculty members like yourselves, we have recently achieved some astonishing breakthroughs:
· Last November, Russell Athletic agreed to re-open a factory it had closed in retaliation for workers’ decision to unionize – the first such reversal of a retaliatory factory closure ever to occur in the apparel industry in the developing world. Russell reversed itself because of an effective grassroots campaign waged by United Students Against Sweatshops (USAS), backed up by the WRC’s research and advocacy, which generated stories in most major mainstream media outlets .
· Just two months ago, Nike paid nearly $2 million that was owed to workers by two of its contract factories – the first time a brand has ever been compelled to assume financial responsibility for its contractors’ malfeasance. This, too, is the result of WRC’s and USAS’s efforts to draw public attention to Nike’s irresponsible practices.
We are proud that faculty played important roles in both of these campaigns – helping to challenge the misinformation circulated by the companies and their defenders, supporting the work of student activists on our campuses, and working to convince campus administrators to take a strong stand in support of workers’ rights. Our goal is to expand and strengthen this vital faculty involvement through the creation of the Faculty No-Sweat Network.
The next step, the letter continued, was to
help create brand recognition for a new apparel brand that is being launched this fall. Alta Gracia Apparel, named after the town in the Dominican Republic where the factory is located, is the first apparel brand committed to making its products in a factory
· where workers have union representation,
· where workers are paid a living wage (340% of the DR’s minimum), and
· where the WRC will have unfettered factory access to verify that all labor rights commitments are being met.
The Alta Gracia label is a brand of Knights Apparel, the largest maker of collegiate clothing. It shows that it is possible to make high quality, affordable apparel, while paying decent wages and guaranteeing humane working conditions. If this happens, it will raise the bar for the entire apparel industry worldwide. No longer will major clothing brands and their apologists be able to argue that sweatshop conditions are necessary to compete in the global economy.
In brief remarks, Isman urged guests in the packed reading room to act with energy and optimism: "Don't give up on the library. Stay involved."
Although some may have thought they detected a subtle allusion to recent controversies that preceded her retirement announcement, it was clear that her focus was on the big picture. The Library, she said, faced many challenges in an age of world economic crisis, local fiscal constraints, and changing culture. Continued involvement was the only solution.
There is the challenge of the digital world that is now invading and multiplying the world of print. One wonders whether books will survive. But we shouldn't give up one medium just because another comes along.
I urge you to be involved—and keep reading.
A small display of documents and photographs assembled by Center Office Manager and librarian Jeff Goodhind chronicled Isman's career, and in the process, made clear the extent to which the evolution of the Jones Library into a fully modern institution was her achievement. Many residents are aware that she oversaw a $ 5 million renovation and expansion of the building, but they may not be aware that she also envisioned and guided the transition into that digital world: she "helped set up the regional online catalog and interlibrary loan system" and "supervised the conversion of the card catalog to an online system."
The display at the Renaissance Center makes one suddenly realize just how much has changed. A 1986 newspaper article reported on the exciting arrival of an Apple computer for public use. "Sometimes people's hands shake, and they ask, 'What if I break it?'" explained audio-visual technician Cathy Verts. Those bold enough to overcome their fears could—for 50 cents for 15 minutes or $2 for a full hour—experiment with word processing (on a 128K text card) or try out all 200 software programs, many of which, Verts proudly proclaimed, would have cost an individual the princely sum of "$ 35 or $40" to purchase.
Isman had been breaking new ground since her arrival as adult services librarian in 1972. The next year, she originated the idea of the Women's Guide, "a descriptive catalog of places to go for help with child care, legal and health problems, education and employment." As she explained, "we need not only to circulate already existing information but to create new sources of it."
Isman left Amherst in 1976 and worked in the Virgin Islands until 1979, when she returned to the Jones, assuming the directorship in 1980. At her first formal performance review in 1985, the trustees gave her "an outstanding and excellent rating." The local newspaper called it a "glowing evaluation," and the same term could apply to the comments at her send-off at the Renaissance Center.
Isman (in red) with well-wishers
The public will have another chance to thank Isman at the formal ceremony marking her retirement, at the Jones Library, Tuesday, December 7, from 4:00 to 7:00 p.m. According to the announcement:
"The entire community is welcome to come and say a few words to Bonnie at this stop-by open house," said Katie George, who is organizing the event on behalf of the Friends of the Jones Library.
Isman is scheduled to retire Dec. 10.
George said the party will include an overview of Isman's tenure.
State Sen. Stan Rosenberg and Rep. Ellen Story are expected to be in attendance, and Rob Maier, a representative from the state Board of Library Commissioners, will be presenting a commendations to Isman,
Isman has asked that all retirement gifts be made to the Friends' "Fund for Fun" account. Refreshments will be served.
This is the eighth-grade final exam from 1895 from Salina, KS. USA.
It was taken from the original document on file at the Smoky Valley
Genealogical Society and Library in Salina, KS and reprinted by the
Salina Journal.
It covers five areas: grammar, arithmetic, U.S. history, orthography, and geography. I'll reproduce just history here:
U.S. History (Time, 45 minutes)
1. Give the epochs into which U.S. History is divided.
2. Give an account of the discovery of America by Columbus.
3. Relate the causes and results of the Revolutionary War.
4. Show the territorial growth of the United States.
5. Tell what you can of the history of Kansas.
6. Describe three of the most prominent battles of theRebellion.
7. Who were the following: Morse, Whitney, Fulton, Bell, Lincoln, Penn, and Howe?
8. Name events connected with the following dates:
1607
1620
1800
1849
1865
You can examine the rest for yourselves, and it's worthwhile, though possibly intimidating. Can you "name and describe" Hecla, Juan Fernandez, and Aspiwall, or answer the question, "Why is the Atlantic Coast colder than the Pacific in the same latitude?" I'd like to give this one (from orthography) to my students (or, for that matter, a good many journalists, newspaper editors, and bloggers)
9. Use the following correctly in sentences, Cite, site, sight, fane, fain, feign, vane, vain, vein, raze, raise, rays.
Hell, I'd be happy if they knew the difference between "its" and "it's."
And under geography, we find:
1. What is climate? Upon what does climate depend?
We already know that the entire incoming Republican Congressional cohort would flunk that one.
To continue to employ the metaphor of love in the context of academic applications, some love goes unrequited. There is this wonderful rejection letter, displayed in the Admissions Office of Williams College—Amherst's parent and arch-rival (thank you, Dr. Freud)—in Williamstown, MA:
Williams College
Wiliamstown, Mass. July 7, 1880
Mr. James O. Woodward
Dear Sir,
The result of the exami-
nation is that we cannot accept
you. The math. examination was
a failure, the Latin very poor, &
in the Greek you did not at-
tempt to do the work.
Another year of solid work
ought to fit you for admission.
Yours truly
O. M. Fernald,
for the examiners
And to think that, nowadays, we are happy if they can put together a grammatical English sentence.
As chance would have it, I noticed that Amherst College makes explicit reference to this letter. That reference is hardly coincidental: It comes in the course of a report on the Class of 2006 from Dean of Admissions and Financial Aid Tom Parker—who used to be the Director of Admissions at Williams. Parker introduces his report by engagingly contrasting the admissions experiences of two New Englanders: John Adams, who was personally examined by the President and entire faculty (all seven of them) of Harvard—and won admission and a scholarship—and the unfortunate Mr. Woodward at Williams 130 years later. He adds:
What also strikes me about Adams' and Woodward's experiences with the college admissions process of the time is its clarity and straightforward nature. One either knew one's Latin, Greek, and Mathematics or did not and was accordingly qualified or not.
So far, so good—though we also should be under no illusion that these institutions were truly meritocratic even within the limited confines of the WASP elite.
Fast-forward another 130 years. Parker continues, somewhat less ingenuously:
That is certainly not the case at Amherst today. Virtually all of our applicants are not only qualified (although, I suspect, few could compete with John Adams' Greek and Latin), but are more than qualified and able not only to do the work here but to do it exceedingly well. This phenomenon owes itself largely to self-selection among students applying to Amherst and similar institutions.
There's a lot going on in those three sentences, and a lot that goes unsaid. In the nineteenth century, admission was to a large extent predicated on possession of a specific pragmatic skill set. Those skills, however, were no guarantee of real intellectual acumen. To the extent that we have moved beyond that, and use a wider variety of criteria, it's all to the good. However, to pretend that the average applicant or accepted student today—even at one of the presumed elite colleges—is any better equipped for the rigors of higher education than his or her predecessor of 1880 is to risk succumbing to a different sort of illusion.
Our students are arguably more sophisticated in their general understanding of the world and their own intellectual endeavors, and yet, as any teacher can tell you, their basic skills often fall far short of what is required in order to complete the sorts of work that we want to assign. Back in poor Mr. Woodward's day, one could expect, as a precondition for admission the ability to carry out basic research, analyze sources, and construct a logical argument, based on persuasive evidence, and conveyed in smooth prose demonstrating a sure command of the mechanics of writing and style. Today, these are abilities that we hope students will be able to demonstrate by the time they declare a major (or: graduate).
Each age has its challenges. On balance, I would unhesitatingly choose ours over those of 1880. But wouldn't it be nice if we could count on the possession of the basic skills, so that we could devote our energy to showing students how to apply them in exploring the legacy of the past and the challenges of the present?
I just recently put up the December calendar icon. I know what that means. The days grow short and the hopes grow long. Yes, it's that time again: the two or three frigid months of deepest darkness when the majority of letters of recommendation for graduate school are due. (Why do you think I am up at this hour?)
As if by divine grace, along comes this video gem (it has several counterparts in other fields) to remind me as well as the students just what they propose to get themselves into. It has gone viral in university literature and history departments. It also has provoked quite a controversy. Opinions divide sharply into two camps: (1) it’s hilarious (LOL, LMAO); and (2) that’s not funny.
Some highlights:
Student: Being a college professor will give me the flexible schedule that best suits my personality.
Professor: No, being a college professor means that you will work on average 65 hours a week trying a publish an obscure article that no one cares about in an obscure scholarly journal that nobody will read, just so that you can put it on your c.v.
You will serve on five to six committees at your school, where you will discuss just how much of your salary the administrators believe you can do without and how many more classes they believe you can teach so they increase the millionaire salary of the football coach.
Student: I like Robin Williams in “Dead Poets Society.” I want to live a life of the mind.
Professor: Oh, my God. Life is not a movie script. Humanities and higher education is under attack SUNY Albany just cut their French and Italian programs. The Tea Party may take control of Congress. They believe all college professors are radical Marxists and they are scheming of ways to have us all fired.. You will have a career where people will demand that you constantly justify to them why you exist, and you will begin to question the nature of your own existence. You will discover that your own life has been a complete waste and that will be confirmed to you when a student like you walks into your office asking for a recommendation.
Clearly, it struck a nerve, for someone felt motivated to produce “Yes, I Want to Get a PhD in the Humanities” (with the rather unoriginal subtitle, “Response to the video…”)
It in turn produced a stream of critical viewer YouTube comments whose bitterness and cynicism went far beyond anything contained in the first animation.
So, who’s right?
Personally, I couldn’t see what all the fuss was about. A similar entry in the series, in which a totally arrogant and talentless would-be writer attempts to pitch his magnum opus to a jaded agent, has likewise gone viral. And, interestingly, some of the same humanities faculty who hated the piece on the letter of recommendation loved this one. (One expressed the wish for a flat-screen tv on her door, so that she could have it on constant replay, 24/7.)
The subtitle of the original piece really should explain its intent pretty clearly (we're talking about textual interpretation here, folks, and this is not Ulysses): “A bright motivated undergrad decides to ask her professor for a letter of recommendation to graduate school.” Then, again, the student is described as having gotten a "C," which seems contradictory as well as bizarre (you almost have to try to achieve that, given grade inflation nowadays). Perhaps, too, poor choice of the stock computerized voice assigned to the student made her sound stupid rather than merely full of the youthful idealism that we, too, once possessed.
In any case, I think the reactions were so strong because devoted scholars and teachers, lovers of culture, somehow felt their character and raison d’être threatened. At a time of economic insecurity, when the humanities face the twin threats of budget cuts and declining appreciation for seemingly non-utilitarian intellectual endeavors in society as a whole, they no doubt felt they were being told that their lives had been futile, based on a lie or a misconception.
When I was growing up, it was an annual spectacle to watch the rural Republican legislators denounce all those "lazy" professors at the large state university who never did any work. These critics apparently identified work with "contact hours," i.e. the time faculty were contractually obligated to spend with students. Fine. By that standard, I suppose we are lazy but far from the laziest or best-paid: the average professor may have 6 to 8 hours in the classroom per week and a couple more in office appointments, whereas the pro football player does, by the same measure, about 3 hours of work—and the clergy, at the bottom of this totem pole (in both quantity of labor and social utility), maybe one to one and a-half hours of work (depends on the religion and the golf schedule).
In all seriousness, I'm the first to admit that we are lucky and privileged: we do what we love and get paid for it, we enjoy unusual job security, we are to a rare extent (if not completely) in control of our own work time, conditions, and obligations, and we get long vacations, even if that vacation consists not in freedom from work, and rather, in the freedom to configure that work time in more flexible (though also more intensive than average) ways.
Still, graduate study and the academic career (the fantasies of state legislators and other critics notwithstanding) are no picnic, and prospective applicants need to be made aware of that. We work long hours, but unlike unionized wage laborers, we don't get paid extra for overtime. I would estimate (based on observation and previous studies) that my colleagues work, on average, 60-85 hours per week at their jobs. Some of that time is spent on research, which is necessary for professional advancement, but whose costs—travel to libraries and archives, attendance at national or international conventions—are (contrary to what the second video suggests) paid largely out of pocket unless one works at one of the wealthiest and most elite institutions.
And that's if you get that far. Working backward: The employment market sucks. I remember, they kept telling us, in more or less so many words: when this generation passes, there will be lots of jobs. Well, they said that for at least a couple of decades before people stopped believing it, and in the meantime, given the financial constraints under which we all work, many old positions are eliminated, go unfilled for years, or are redefined in peculiar ways. That reverse itinerary brings us back to graduate school. I've served on the graduate admissions committee of the UMass/Five College PhD program in history. Applications that speak merely of the candidate's "love of history" (did you acquire it because your grandfather told stories of his life, or your parents took you to Gettysburg in third grade?) end up in the wastebasket. (Sorry, kid.) What the graduate programs are looking for is a combination of raw talent, understanding of the field, and understanding of the nature of professional training and the career. Graduate school is in a sense your big moment of freedom and yet also no fun: you are freed from college requirements and able to focus on your true intellectual love. At the same time, you are socialized by being professionalized. With new freedom come new constraints. You can’t be a generalist. You won’t be indulged.
It is, of course, one big string of deferred gratifications held out before the bright student, like a lure before a greyhound at the track: once you are beyond—fill in the blanks: undergraduate distribution requirements; graduate applications; graduate distribution requirements; your PhD prelim exams; your thesis proposal; graduate school; employment; tenure—any one of half a dozen other things, you will be truly free to do what you love. It’s hard to be both brilliantly creative and ruthlessly pragmatic, especially before the age of 40. As I tell my students: the smartest and most original students often leave graduate school or academe—not because they can’t perform, but because they find the demands of the theater owner are not to their liking. You need to have a very high tolerance for boredom, tedium, and nonsense. Or, as a senior professor told me when I was a student and we met while doing research in Europe: "My grad students tell me, 'They treat us like mushrooms: keep us in the dark and feed us a lot of shit.'"
The main point that the first video is making, then, is that "love" of a field or discipline is not enough: necessary, but not sufficient. In that sense, it’s like love itself: burning passion is not enough to sustain a marriage, which is a social contract and a pragmatic arrangement of daily life over the long haul. Even the most ardent lovers have to come to a modus vivendi about managing the budget, doing the dishes, and taking out the garbage. Those who truly love scholarship and culture and want to make a career of that will also learn, figuratively, to take out the garbage.
Understood? Fine, I’d be delighted to write you a letter of recommendation. Now give me those forms (but please, if you can, give me more than a week’s warning about the due date, too.)
Postscript
I am delighted to report that all the students asking me for letters of recommendation are serious and eminently qualified, as they almost invariably are. Indeed, although it is a little-known fact, Hampshire College is ranked first in the country in the percentage of graduates who go on to get a PhD in history, and eighth in the other humanities. Follow us on Twitter in order to learn more.
* * *
Some resources if you are thinking about applying to grad school (especially in history):
• Paul Boyer, "Graduate Applications: The Important Elements," American Historical Association (AHA) Perspectives, Oct. 1989
The "xtranormal" do-it-yourself text-to-movie animations, with curious characters saying outrageous things in monotones, are going viral. The video that introduced me to the genre is "So You Want to Write a Novel," which is one of the best. . .
For me, the exchange that struck home was this one:
Author: “It’s going to need a lot of editing: I’m not the best speller.”
Editor: “My throat is starting to close up. The publishing industry really sort of expects you to have the whole spelling and grammar thing down.”
See the whole post (and the video) on Habent Sua Fata Libelli.
US coin to honor Wampanoag treaty
1621 pact helped ensure Plymouth colony’s safety
By David Filipov
Globe Staff / December 2, 2010
It is a pact that shaped early Colonial history, and the first recorded formal alliance between a Wampanoag community and the English settlers at Plymouth Bay. And starting next year, people across the nation will be able to obtain a unique representation of the historic 1621 agreement.
The US Mint is planning to issue a $1 coin that on its tails side will depict the hands of Governor John Carver and the Wampanoag sachem Ousamequin, who is often identified as Massasoit, or “great leader’’, as they share a ceremonial peace pipe after solidifying the treaty. Historians consider the alliance one of the factors that ensured the survival of the Plymouth colony. And people who study the Pilgrims and the Wampanoag welcomed the new coin as a way to draw nationwide attention to a history still widely misunderstood.
“We’re thrilled,’’ said Jennifer Monac, public relations manager at Plimoth Plantation. “We’re just really excited anytime anybody wants to shed a light on the history we are trying to tell.’’ (read the rest)
We have come a long way from the celebratory history of the colonization of the Americas.
An important event in the transformation of debate and sentiment took place more than a generation ago, here in Massachusetts. As Mass Moments reminds us:
First Day of "National Mourning" Held in Plymouth, November 26, 1970
On this day in 1970, a group of Native Americans attending a Thanksgiving feast in Plymouth walked out in protest. The Indians and their supporters gathered on a hill overlooking Plymouth Rock near a statue of Massasoit, the Wampanoag leader who had greeted the Mayflower passengers 350 years earlier. The protesters spoke about their long struggle to preserve their land and culture. The fourth Thursday in November was not a day for thanksgiving and feasting, they declared, but for grieving and fasting. As most Americans continued to observe the holiday in what had become the customary way — with football, parades, and family gatherings — the native people of Massachusetts began a new tradition: a "National Day of Mourning," held in lieu of Thanksgiving celebrations.
The post goes on to explain some of the complexities of both the local Native American culture and relations between Native Americans (no monolithic group, even in New England, it should be stressed) and the Pilgrims. In the intervening years, understanding of the Native American perspective has grown.
Friend and fellow-blogger Jay Adler, who writes regularly and incisively on Native American Affairs at the sad red earth, has several relevant posts in the past week.
The first, "The End of the Indian Wars: 120 Years and Counting," is an update of his earlier pioneering reporting on "pursuit of an accounting and settlement of land use fees collect in trust by the Department of the Interior since 1887."
The second takes up the question of demands for an apology for wrongs that the United States government has done to Native Americans. We of course live in a peculiar age and culture: on the one hand, we—individually, at least—are more likely than ever to apologize for our transgressions. Get caught with a hooker or a few extra girlfriends (it's usually guys, after all)? Go on Leno or Larry King and act contrite. Make a statement acknowledging the "pain" you have caused [fill in the blank], while at the same time implictly excusing your bad behavior by citing the factors that drove you to it. Above all, try not to smirk at the devil's bargain: you pretend to act contrite, and we pretend to believe you. Actually, from an anthropological perspective, it's a fascinating phenomenon. The tempting, instinctive reaction is to see the whole thing as hypocrisy—which it is, by one standard—but that also misses another equally important point. It's really about ritual, much as in traditional honor-shame societies (as opposed to modern societies, which emphasize guilt, an internalized reaction). The public apology reiterates and reinforces the communal norm, for it's about the group and its values, more than the individual transgression, as such. What has been broken must be made whole.
It all becomes a bit more complicated when we begin to talk about apologies by organizations, from corporations to states. These acts of contrition can have policy implications or financial consequences. And yet, the ritual element remains important: what do we stand for? what are we condemning? what are we affirming? how? in whose voice or name?
In "A Proper Apology to Native America," Jay explains that he has been advocating such a step for years, preferably tied to Columbus Day (which is historically more appropriate), though acknowledging that Thanksgiving recommends itself as an appropriate occasion in both practical and symbolic regards. He notes that a Native American group plans to ask President Obama for an apology "for past atrocities," specifically focused on the abuses of the Indian Boarding Schools, which have become a cause célèbre in Canada and Australia, as well. He goes on to observe that the United States was "was only four nations to vote against" the Declaration of Rights of Indigenous Peoples in the UN General Assembly in 2007, and that the other three rejectionist nations—Australia, New Zealand, and Canada—have rescinded that decision; the US under President Obama has promised to do so. He concludes, "If we wish to have some idea of what a genuine apology looks like, delivered in a setting profound in its manner and import, we need only look to the Australian example," which he cites at length. Finally, Jay turns again to western American history.In "The Lakota and the Pine Ridge Reservation," he posts the TED talk of photographer Aaron Huey.
Excursus
Speaking of apologies, at the same time, a delegation of the Amish from the United States and Switzerland came to Israel (the mere fact that they traveled on airplanes was noteworthy), where, at the Western Wall, as the Jerusalem Post reports, they "they asked the Jewish people’s forgiveness for their group’s silence during the Nazi extermination of Jews in the Holocaust." In "a ceremony in the Hasmonean chamber," they expressed their regret by offering "a parchment with a request for forgiveness in the name of the entire Amish community, along with a commitment that from now on, it would loudly voice its support of the Jewish people, especially in the wake of the expressions of hatred by Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad."
Update December 3
Jay Adler reports that Congress passed the portion of the Claims Resolution regarding Department of the Interior policy toward Native Americans (above).
