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Save the World on Your Own Time
What should be the role of our institutions of higher education? To promote good moral character? To bring an end to racism, sexism, economic oppression, and other social ills? To foster diversity and democracy and produce responsible citizens?In Save the World On Your Own Time , Stanley Fish argues that, however laudable these goals might be, there is but one proper role for the academe in to advance bodies of knowledge and to equip students for doing the same. When teachers offer themselves as moralists, political activists, or agents of social change rather than as credentialed experts in a particular subject and the methods used to analyze it, they abdicate their true purpose. And yet professors now routinely bring their political views into the classroom and seek to influence the political views of their students. Those who do this will often invoke academic freedom, but Fish suggests that academic freedom, correctly understood, is the freedom to do the academic job, not the freedom to do any job that the professor so chooses. Fish insists that a professor's only obligation is "to present the material in the syllabus and introduce students to state-of-the-art methods of analysis. Not to practice politics, but to study it; not to proselytize for or against religious doctrines, but to describe them; not to affirm or condemn Intelligent Design, but to explain what it is and analyze its appeal."Given that hot-button issues such as Holocaust denial, free speech, and the Israeli-Palestinian conflict are regularly debated in classrooms across the nation, Save the World On Your Own Time is certain to spark fresh debate--and to incense both liberals and conservatives alike--about the true purpose of higher education in America.
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First published July 12, 2008
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About the author
Stanley Fish
65Ìýbooks115ÌýfollowersStanley Eugene Fish is an American literary theorist and legal scholar. He was born and raised in Providence, Rhode Island. He is often associated with postmodernism, at times to his irritation, as he describes himself as an anti-foundationalist.
He is the Davidson-Kahn Distinguished University Professor of Humanities and a Professor of Law at Florida International University, in Miami, as well as Dean Emeritus of the College of Liberal Arts and Sciences at the University of Illinois at Chicago, and the author of 10 books. Professor Fish has also taught at the University of California, Berkeley, Johns Hopkins University, Columbia University, and Duke University.
He is the Davidson-Kahn Distinguished University Professor of Humanities and a Professor of Law at Florida International University, in Miami, as well as Dean Emeritus of the College of Liberal Arts and Sciences at the University of Illinois at Chicago, and the author of 10 books. Professor Fish has also taught at the University of California, Berkeley, Johns Hopkins University, Columbia University, and Duke University.
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Displaying 1 - 23 of 23 reviews
April 3, 2020
An intelligent, closely argued little book whose primary subject is the purpose of higher education. For Fish the purpose of education is simply that: education (or--to be precise--training in a particular discipline, such as linguistics, literary studies, organic chemistry, etc.). The purpose is not to be authentic, to encourage diversity, or to save the world.
This is a thoughtful book and has something to interest everyone, and the best evidence of its prophetic truthfulness is that there is much here that will make both left-wingers and right-wingers angry. And pleased.
November 27, 2013
I like it when a book surprises me. I was prepared by the title not to like this book but discovered that I appreciated the clear thinking and fundamentally sound argument Fish makes in this book. The argument is that professors in higher education should devote themselves to doing the best work possible in teaching students the content and skills outlined as objectives for a particular course, and to pursue their chosen lines of research--nothing less, nothing more, nothing else, at least in the context of their employment in a college or university.
Fish writes this book as a vigorous response to pressures to justify the work of colleges and universities in an increasingly "bottom line" conscious environment. He sees universities responding with language about education for citizenship, promoting respect for diversity, developing student ethics of service, and so on and so forth. He strongly contends that faculty who are doing any of this are not doing their job, which is to teach their discipline. He would contend that when faculty attempt to do this, they are shifting from teaching to indoctrination. And this is what I particularly appreciate in his argument--the honest admission that many of these efforts are thinly disguised attempts at indoctrination that most students readily recognize and dislike.
Fish even goes so far as to argue that efforts to use this kind of rhetoric with state legislators in the context of public university funding is counterproductive toadying. Legislators just keep cutting funding and complaining about high university costs (so how are universities to pay for the cost of education if not enabled to raise tuition or secure state funding or other funding sources, which often bring their own "strings"?). Fish would argue that the academic exploration of one's discipline and instruction of that discipline with students who choose to take these courses is its own justification.
Between chapters on "doing your job" and "not doing the job of others" and "not letting others do your job" he has a surprising chapter in praise of the work of administrators when it is well done. Equally, he skewers administrators who fail to be zealous advocates for what he sees as the academic enterprise and fall into the temptation of "sucking up" to legislators and the critics of higher ed from the world outside the academy who he sees as not understanding the real work of higher ed.
There was one point where I felt that Fish was disingenuous in his argument. In his response to David Horowitz's "Academic Bill of Rights" he argues that you can somehow be intellectually even handed even when a department's political (and religious?) makeup is heavily skewed in one direction, even if readings appropriate to the subject being taught reflect that bias, so long as the professor does not advocate for a particular political perspective but keeps things on academic terms. It is true that no good hiring or tenure process can ask about these things. However, any candidate, unless they are consciously deceptive in their writing and online presence, can easily be identified as sharing or opposing the departmental consensus in these matters and would have, I believe, a difficult time getting hired, no matter how good one's scholarship. Likewise, the "intellectual flavor" of a department heavily skewed in one direction cannot help but communicate to students what points of view are "out of bounds", even if no formal advocacy or indoctrination takes place.
He also takes on Anthony Kronman, whose book Education's End: Why Our Colleges and Universities Have Given Up on the Meaning of Life I recently reviewed. He would argue against Kronman that it is not the professor's role to encourage the personal reflective enterprise on "great questions and great ideas" that Kronman advocates. The professor's role is only to teach the conversation. Student's may do with it whatever they will. And this is another place where I might part with Fish. While it is wrong, I believe, for a professor to advocate that a student adopt a particular view on ultimate questions, I wonder whether the intellectual detachment he promotes to be equally problematic. Should not students have the opportunity to personally engage the ideas and research they are doing? Is there never a place where they be given the opportunity to articulate their own conclusions, even tentative ones, to what they are learning? In this, the result shouldn't be to privilege or sanction certain conclusions but to promote engagement with the academic material presented. It seems to me that Fish promotes a university free from ideological indoctrination, which I favor, but one that seems "soulless". So my question for Fish is "why must we sacrifice the soul of the university to obtain the academically pure enterprise you are advocating?"
(My review of Education's End may be found at: )
Fish writes this book as a vigorous response to pressures to justify the work of colleges and universities in an increasingly "bottom line" conscious environment. He sees universities responding with language about education for citizenship, promoting respect for diversity, developing student ethics of service, and so on and so forth. He strongly contends that faculty who are doing any of this are not doing their job, which is to teach their discipline. He would contend that when faculty attempt to do this, they are shifting from teaching to indoctrination. And this is what I particularly appreciate in his argument--the honest admission that many of these efforts are thinly disguised attempts at indoctrination that most students readily recognize and dislike.
Fish even goes so far as to argue that efforts to use this kind of rhetoric with state legislators in the context of public university funding is counterproductive toadying. Legislators just keep cutting funding and complaining about high university costs (so how are universities to pay for the cost of education if not enabled to raise tuition or secure state funding or other funding sources, which often bring their own "strings"?). Fish would argue that the academic exploration of one's discipline and instruction of that discipline with students who choose to take these courses is its own justification.
Between chapters on "doing your job" and "not doing the job of others" and "not letting others do your job" he has a surprising chapter in praise of the work of administrators when it is well done. Equally, he skewers administrators who fail to be zealous advocates for what he sees as the academic enterprise and fall into the temptation of "sucking up" to legislators and the critics of higher ed from the world outside the academy who he sees as not understanding the real work of higher ed.
There was one point where I felt that Fish was disingenuous in his argument. In his response to David Horowitz's "Academic Bill of Rights" he argues that you can somehow be intellectually even handed even when a department's political (and religious?) makeup is heavily skewed in one direction, even if readings appropriate to the subject being taught reflect that bias, so long as the professor does not advocate for a particular political perspective but keeps things on academic terms. It is true that no good hiring or tenure process can ask about these things. However, any candidate, unless they are consciously deceptive in their writing and online presence, can easily be identified as sharing or opposing the departmental consensus in these matters and would have, I believe, a difficult time getting hired, no matter how good one's scholarship. Likewise, the "intellectual flavor" of a department heavily skewed in one direction cannot help but communicate to students what points of view are "out of bounds", even if no formal advocacy or indoctrination takes place.
He also takes on Anthony Kronman, whose book Education's End: Why Our Colleges and Universities Have Given Up on the Meaning of Life I recently reviewed. He would argue against Kronman that it is not the professor's role to encourage the personal reflective enterprise on "great questions and great ideas" that Kronman advocates. The professor's role is only to teach the conversation. Student's may do with it whatever they will. And this is another place where I might part with Fish. While it is wrong, I believe, for a professor to advocate that a student adopt a particular view on ultimate questions, I wonder whether the intellectual detachment he promotes to be equally problematic. Should not students have the opportunity to personally engage the ideas and research they are doing? Is there never a place where they be given the opportunity to articulate their own conclusions, even tentative ones, to what they are learning? In this, the result shouldn't be to privilege or sanction certain conclusions but to promote engagement with the academic material presented. It seems to me that Fish promotes a university free from ideological indoctrination, which I favor, but one that seems "soulless". So my question for Fish is "why must we sacrifice the soul of the university to obtain the academically pure enterprise you are advocating?"
(My review of Education's End may be found at: )
July 9, 2014
Stanley Fish has built his reputation on being provocative. It often seemed in this book as if he were trying especially hard to maintain that reputation.
Fish's ideas might have been well expressed in an essay or an article. Slim though this book is, it is unnecessarily long to make his points. He spends much of the time defending himself from apparently everyone who has ever disagreed with him (hint: that's a lot) and demonstrating how you can accomplish more by being moderately rude and arrogant. (No, I'm not just making this assumption. He really claims this.)
My reactions while reading Save the World on Your Own Time ranged from violent rejection to complete agreement, but at some point I became rather queasy from the swiftly spiraling circular reasoning. I'm not sure whether Fish's ideas could be applied to secular institutions of higher learning and achieve beneficial results. Part way through, I realized I didn't really care, either. For my own part, I glibly stepped off the merry-go-round of proposals and rejections, defenses and accusations, and I found my footing on ground entirely outside the world of Stanley Fish. In one passing parenthetical comment, Fish notes that his objections and ideas "would not apply to avowedly sectarian universities; indoctrination in a certain direction is quite properly their business." (p. 68) Well, that is where my interests lie, with those indoctrinating sectarians, I suppose, and I'm doubtful that anyone--even the inimitable Stanley Fish--can really do as he claims to do and teach without bias, without moral or civic ends in sight.
Fish's ideas might have been well expressed in an essay or an article. Slim though this book is, it is unnecessarily long to make his points. He spends much of the time defending himself from apparently everyone who has ever disagreed with him (hint: that's a lot) and demonstrating how you can accomplish more by being moderately rude and arrogant. (No, I'm not just making this assumption. He really claims this.)
My reactions while reading Save the World on Your Own Time ranged from violent rejection to complete agreement, but at some point I became rather queasy from the swiftly spiraling circular reasoning. I'm not sure whether Fish's ideas could be applied to secular institutions of higher learning and achieve beneficial results. Part way through, I realized I didn't really care, either. For my own part, I glibly stepped off the merry-go-round of proposals and rejections, defenses and accusations, and I found my footing on ground entirely outside the world of Stanley Fish. In one passing parenthetical comment, Fish notes that his objections and ideas "would not apply to avowedly sectarian universities; indoctrination in a certain direction is quite properly their business." (p. 68) Well, that is where my interests lie, with those indoctrinating sectarians, I suppose, and I'm doubtful that anyone--even the inimitable Stanley Fish--can really do as he claims to do and teach without bias, without moral or civic ends in sight.
March 31, 2009
Stanley Fish, the well-known "public intellectual" (I'm still not sure what that means) who is probably known more for his New York Times articles than for his scholarly work, argues that universities and many of their faculty members have mistakenly fallen for the notion that their charge is to inculcate "values," encourage "productive citizens," and teach students to "respect a diversity of beliefs and identities." Instead of such broad and sloppy intents, Fish claims that teachers in higher education should limit themselves (at least professionally) to two things: (1) introduce students to bodies of knowledge and traditions of inquiry that had not previously been part of their experience; and (2) equip students with the analytical skills (e.g., argumentation, scientific methods) that will enable them to move confidently within those traditions and engage in independent research after completing a course of study.
He then goes on to excoriate those who would do otherwise. However, he does his bit to undress all sides of the debate, left, right, and even those claiming (or trying to claim) a middle spot. In fact, reading this book was quite uncomfortable. Have you ever been in a conversation with an iconoclast and tried to anticipate his or her position in order to offer words of support (or simply to avoid a disagreement), only to find that you've anticipated the wrong position entirely? That's what it felt like to read this book.
In any event, it's a nice read if you've spent any time in an academic environment. Just don't expect to come out of it with much optimism about higher education and its participants.
He then goes on to excoriate those who would do otherwise. However, he does his bit to undress all sides of the debate, left, right, and even those claiming (or trying to claim) a middle spot. In fact, reading this book was quite uncomfortable. Have you ever been in a conversation with an iconoclast and tried to anticipate his or her position in order to offer words of support (or simply to avoid a disagreement), only to find that you've anticipated the wrong position entirely? That's what it felt like to read this book.
In any event, it's a nice read if you've spent any time in an academic environment. Just don't expect to come out of it with much optimism about higher education and its participants.
December 30, 2017
As a grad student, I was absolutely appalled at the snide political bs most of my professors interjected into lecture, discussion, and chosen required reading. Regardless of your political beliefs, it should horrify everyone that campuses are only showing students one side of the coin. Instead of teaching them how to think, they are teaching them what to think. Stanley Fish steps up to the plate and whacks a homer... professors, listen up, you may be experts in your field of study. Great, teach your subject. Leave your political opinions at home... nobody on campus wants them.
July 14, 2010
I actually decided to pick up Save the World on Your Own Time because of an off-hand remark in David Dockery’s 'Renewing Minds' pertaining to Fish’s literary views. Unsurprisingly, in this book Fish disagrees with a great many of Dockery’s ideas of what higher education should be meant to accomplish, and argues in a much more succinct, logical, and persuasive way.
Dockery, along with many of my professors, believes that the university should be a place dedicated to training men and women of character in a great many things beyond academics. Fish, on the other hand, believes that the only thing the university can reasonably expect to accomplish is the one thing it is actually designed to do: transmit knowledge and skills to its students.
In general, after 90 years of reform-minded Ed school graduates pouring into the system, dreaming romantically of “fostering growth� and “encouraging creativity�, we still seem to be completely nonplussed when it comes to defining the purpose of schooling or education. That, or we speak on and on, assigning to the schools every duty from making sure graduates are “productive members of society�, to “fostering tolerance and understanding�, but never getting to an actual purpose. In Philosophy & Education, George Knight referred to this as “mindlessness.� We seem not to know what particular good things to pursue, so we pursue them all, without focus.
Everyone agrees there are problems with the system, but the two prominent sides can’t seem to agree on what they are. As a result, our efforts at solving them are going nowhere, but Fish thinks we’re going about it all wrong. Everyone seems to think the schools aren’t doing enough—everyone except him: “…the problems pretty much go away when you understand and act on a simple imperative—do your job—which comes along with two corollary imperatives—don’t do somebody else’s job and don’t let someone else do your job.�
Early on he differentiates between higher education and “professional instruction� (“if you want to make something, here’s how to do it�), he cuts into university mission statements that promise things we all know they can’t possibly deliver with any regularity (“I don’t know what ‘an appreciation of the world� means, and ‘individual group beliefs and traditions� is a pathetic and incoherent attempt to sit on the fence…�), and lays down a simple, limited, and difficult task for the university: Introduce students to new bodies of knowledge and inquiry, and equip them with the skills to engage in those fields.
All the rest are “contingent effects�, which can’t necessarily be planned, and “shouldn’t be aimed at.� The limited nature of the academic task, the fact that it has only one focus � “the mastery of intellectual and scholarly skills� � is what makes it “partially achievable�. Teachers and professors aren’t trained to deal with all the world’s social and political and personal issues. There are people trained for those things: social workers, politicians, psychologists, clergy.
In distinguishing education from other fields, Fish argues, educators must be emphatic about keeping other groups out of the academic enterprise. While many people believe that schools have many constituencies-businesses, parents, politicians, society as a whole, etc.-but Fish essentially says, “No, the university is its own constituency.� It has its own standards, methods, and purposes, which only incidentally cross paths with those of other groups; they don’t know the enterprise well enough to meddle, and their expectations are sometimes at odds with the purpose of schooling.
In the end Fish’s point was simple: education has a single focus, and that is the transmitting of knowledge and skills to students. The [secular:] school has neither the time nor the training to engage intentionally in character building, consciousness raising, or social vocalizing. These things are better left to other groups who have more skill and practice -perhaps because the people who trained them stuck to the point � and will do a better job. Giving those things up has the happy and fortunate consequence of allowing more time for the practice and improvement of teaching and learning.
Dockery, along with many of my professors, believes that the university should be a place dedicated to training men and women of character in a great many things beyond academics. Fish, on the other hand, believes that the only thing the university can reasonably expect to accomplish is the one thing it is actually designed to do: transmit knowledge and skills to its students.
In general, after 90 years of reform-minded Ed school graduates pouring into the system, dreaming romantically of “fostering growth� and “encouraging creativity�, we still seem to be completely nonplussed when it comes to defining the purpose of schooling or education. That, or we speak on and on, assigning to the schools every duty from making sure graduates are “productive members of society�, to “fostering tolerance and understanding�, but never getting to an actual purpose. In Philosophy & Education, George Knight referred to this as “mindlessness.� We seem not to know what particular good things to pursue, so we pursue them all, without focus.
Everyone agrees there are problems with the system, but the two prominent sides can’t seem to agree on what they are. As a result, our efforts at solving them are going nowhere, but Fish thinks we’re going about it all wrong. Everyone seems to think the schools aren’t doing enough—everyone except him: “…the problems pretty much go away when you understand and act on a simple imperative—do your job—which comes along with two corollary imperatives—don’t do somebody else’s job and don’t let someone else do your job.�
Early on he differentiates between higher education and “professional instruction� (“if you want to make something, here’s how to do it�), he cuts into university mission statements that promise things we all know they can’t possibly deliver with any regularity (“I don’t know what ‘an appreciation of the world� means, and ‘individual group beliefs and traditions� is a pathetic and incoherent attempt to sit on the fence…�), and lays down a simple, limited, and difficult task for the university: Introduce students to new bodies of knowledge and inquiry, and equip them with the skills to engage in those fields.
All the rest are “contingent effects�, which can’t necessarily be planned, and “shouldn’t be aimed at.� The limited nature of the academic task, the fact that it has only one focus � “the mastery of intellectual and scholarly skills� � is what makes it “partially achievable�. Teachers and professors aren’t trained to deal with all the world’s social and political and personal issues. There are people trained for those things: social workers, politicians, psychologists, clergy.
In distinguishing education from other fields, Fish argues, educators must be emphatic about keeping other groups out of the academic enterprise. While many people believe that schools have many constituencies-businesses, parents, politicians, society as a whole, etc.-but Fish essentially says, “No, the university is its own constituency.� It has its own standards, methods, and purposes, which only incidentally cross paths with those of other groups; they don’t know the enterprise well enough to meddle, and their expectations are sometimes at odds with the purpose of schooling.
In the end Fish’s point was simple: education has a single focus, and that is the transmitting of knowledge and skills to students. The [secular:] school has neither the time nor the training to engage intentionally in character building, consciousness raising, or social vocalizing. These things are better left to other groups who have more skill and practice -perhaps because the people who trained them stuck to the point � and will do a better job. Giving those things up has the happy and fortunate consequence of allowing more time for the practice and improvement of teaching and learning.
August 17, 2008
If it were possible, I'd give this book a 4.6, so I'm rounding up. Fish's prescriptions for how to teach--teach the subject and the skills necessary to master that subject, and nothing more or less--are quite refreshing. I have myself committed the mistake of using the classroom to advance my own ideology. I am chastened by what Fish has written, but will try to do better.
I do have a few quibbles with Fish's faith in instructors' willingness to do this. He estimates that only 1 out of 25 use the classroom as a bully pulpit for their own partisan views. My quibble isn't so much that he underestimates the number (his argument doesn't depend on his 1 in 25 figure, as he says that 1 in 10,000 is too many), it's that he doesn't take into account that most people, despite their best intentions, might lapse, from time to time, into asserting their own views about matters extraneous to the classroom. Nobody's perfect.
Another quibble is with Fish's insistence that one can draw a sharp line between a university's primary obligation to "disseminate knowledge and confer skills" and any social obligations the university might have to "social justice," etc. I believe he is quite right to say that universities should avoid political stands, but he carries the point too far when he says, for instance, that in its capacities as investor or employer of labor it ought to concern itself, in the one instance, only with getting a good return and in the other instance, only with getting the best labor at the cheapest wage (consistent with minimum wage and other employment law, I suppose).
Might there be a target for investment so reprehensible that a university, for reasons of conscientiousness, should forebear investment? Fish seems to say no. Might there be no notion of being a fair employer in addition to being just a self-interested one (here I'm more concerned with staff and wages services, not so much with the salaries of professors or TA's)? Fish, again, seems to say no.
Fish bases these arguments on the assumption that each job has its distinct role and interest. So far, so good, and I don't disagree with him there. But I wouldn't be surprised if some employers of labor think it at least an open question whether "fairness" should factor into employment decisions: I think many, maybe even most, employers would claim (disingenuously or not) that they strive to be fair and do not see their role as using the naked power of management to extract surplus value. Similarly with investors: although I have no evidence (unless Suze Orman counts as evidence), I would not be surprised if investors admitted, in the abstract, at least, that the fairness of business practices in the companies in which they invest should be a factor in those investments.
By and large, I agree with Fish's argument. I just think there is some leeway in how to apply professional obligations that he doesn't acknowledge. I also think he should do more to account for the fact that even the best intentioned instructors may at times slip.
I do have a few quibbles with Fish's faith in instructors' willingness to do this. He estimates that only 1 out of 25 use the classroom as a bully pulpit for their own partisan views. My quibble isn't so much that he underestimates the number (his argument doesn't depend on his 1 in 25 figure, as he says that 1 in 10,000 is too many), it's that he doesn't take into account that most people, despite their best intentions, might lapse, from time to time, into asserting their own views about matters extraneous to the classroom. Nobody's perfect.
Another quibble is with Fish's insistence that one can draw a sharp line between a university's primary obligation to "disseminate knowledge and confer skills" and any social obligations the university might have to "social justice," etc. I believe he is quite right to say that universities should avoid political stands, but he carries the point too far when he says, for instance, that in its capacities as investor or employer of labor it ought to concern itself, in the one instance, only with getting a good return and in the other instance, only with getting the best labor at the cheapest wage (consistent with minimum wage and other employment law, I suppose).
Might there be a target for investment so reprehensible that a university, for reasons of conscientiousness, should forebear investment? Fish seems to say no. Might there be no notion of being a fair employer in addition to being just a self-interested one (here I'm more concerned with staff and wages services, not so much with the salaries of professors or TA's)? Fish, again, seems to say no.
Fish bases these arguments on the assumption that each job has its distinct role and interest. So far, so good, and I don't disagree with him there. But I wouldn't be surprised if some employers of labor think it at least an open question whether "fairness" should factor into employment decisions: I think many, maybe even most, employers would claim (disingenuously or not) that they strive to be fair and do not see their role as using the naked power of management to extract surplus value. Similarly with investors: although I have no evidence (unless Suze Orman counts as evidence), I would not be surprised if investors admitted, in the abstract, at least, that the fairness of business practices in the companies in which they invest should be a factor in those investments.
By and large, I agree with Fish's argument. I just think there is some leeway in how to apply professional obligations that he doesn't acknowledge. I also think he should do more to account for the fact that even the best intentioned instructors may at times slip.
January 11, 2011
In this book Stanley Fish takes on Professors who view it as their mission to indoctrinate their students with ideologies and partisan political views they personally value. Fish says that professors that do this in the classroom are using academic freedom as a licence to preach to their students. Academic freedom's purpose is to keep partisan politics out of the classroom. Universities were terrified (and rightly so) that governments would impose the party's political view into the classroom and punish professors who refused to tote the party line. Unfortunately, some professors are using academic freedom for the exact opposite purpose namely, advocating for a partisan view. "...one violates academic freedom by deciding to set aside academic purposes for others thought to be more noble or urgent." (page 81)
"Leave the geopolitical pronoucements to the politicians whose job it is to make them and follow them up with actions. Remember always what a university is for-- the transmission of knowledge and the conferring of analytical skills--resist the temptation to inflate the importance of what goes on in its precincts. And don't think that everything that comes your way is a matter of free speech and academic freedom. These grand abstractions are invoked by academics at the slightest pretext." (page 79)
Fish is not saying that professors aren't allowed to have strong political or ideological views. Craming those views down the throats of your students though is just wrong.
"Actually I am urging professors to remain silent on important political issues only when they are engaged in teaching. After hours, on their own time, when they write letters to the editor or speak at campus rallies, they can be as vocal as they like about anything and everything." (page 29)
"...and to those professors who turn freedom into license by using the classrom as a partisan pulpit, or by teaching materials unrelated to the course description, or by coming to class unprepared or not at all, you can say, 'look, it's freedom to do the job, not freedom to change it or shirk it'...In short, and for the last itme, just do your job. The world of grand and ambitious ends will take care of itself, and if it doesn't, you can always save it on your own time." (pages 82, 178)
I don't agree with everything that is said in this book, Fish is a lefty (and I'm generally suspicious of anyone who is proud to have voted for John Kerry. lol, there that was my partisan political punch.) Having said that I think this book should be mandatory reading for all professors at Western Law for reasons I'm sure many of my fellow students will understand.
"Leave the geopolitical pronoucements to the politicians whose job it is to make them and follow them up with actions. Remember always what a university is for-- the transmission of knowledge and the conferring of analytical skills--resist the temptation to inflate the importance of what goes on in its precincts. And don't think that everything that comes your way is a matter of free speech and academic freedom. These grand abstractions are invoked by academics at the slightest pretext." (page 79)
Fish is not saying that professors aren't allowed to have strong political or ideological views. Craming those views down the throats of your students though is just wrong.
"Actually I am urging professors to remain silent on important political issues only when they are engaged in teaching. After hours, on their own time, when they write letters to the editor or speak at campus rallies, they can be as vocal as they like about anything and everything." (page 29)
"...and to those professors who turn freedom into license by using the classrom as a partisan pulpit, or by teaching materials unrelated to the course description, or by coming to class unprepared or not at all, you can say, 'look, it's freedom to do the job, not freedom to change it or shirk it'...In short, and for the last itme, just do your job. The world of grand and ambitious ends will take care of itself, and if it doesn't, you can always save it on your own time." (pages 82, 178)
I don't agree with everything that is said in this book, Fish is a lefty (and I'm generally suspicious of anyone who is proud to have voted for John Kerry. lol, there that was my partisan political punch.) Having said that I think this book should be mandatory reading for all professors at Western Law for reasons I'm sure many of my fellow students will understand.
June 10, 2016
Fish's book, which is directed to college teachers and administrators, seeks to prove the thesis that the only legitimate (as the only quantifiable) aim of the college teacher is to provide students with knowledge and skill in the discipline under which the course is listed. It's a chastening (because as teachers, we all want to better the world in some way) but reasonable work which is relentlessly and lucidly argued. One ends up enjoying it in part because it is growling rather than conciliatory, which is the attitude he recommends taking in the face of the detractors of the academy.
Fish begins the book with an introduction where he pictures himself as a quarrelsome old control freak who wants to tell everyone what to do, but by the time he's done, he's convinced us that we need more people like him, doing their jobs ferociously so that we can do ours unimpeded.
More or less irrelevant note: if you've seen the animated film Despicable Me, you probably know the scene where the villain shouts "Quiet down, fish!" at his pet shark? I thought of that scene often while reading this book.
Fish begins the book with an introduction where he pictures himself as a quarrelsome old control freak who wants to tell everyone what to do, but by the time he's done, he's convinced us that we need more people like him, doing their jobs ferociously so that we can do ours unimpeded.
More or less irrelevant note: if you've seen the animated film Despicable Me, you probably know the scene where the villain shouts "Quiet down, fish!" at his pet shark? I thought of that scene often while reading this book.
April 22, 2010
Take that, most of my professors!
I know Fish is kind of an iconoclast, but this book is just really, really reasonable (when he doesn't go all the way into sheer curmudgeon territory, which he often does, but even that is kind of endearing). The argument is that academic pursuits are worthy simply in and of themselves, and should not be justified by either political/ideological advocacy on the part of faculty nor accountability to market principles or lawmakers'/funders' ideas of what universities should do.
It does leave me wondering about the project of Christian higher education. There was certainly an emphasis on turning out particular types of students at the university I attended, which might run afoul of Fish's call to "academicize" everything. He also says that sectarian institutions have the right to be whatever they want, though, so not quite sure how that squares.
I know Fish is kind of an iconoclast, but this book is just really, really reasonable (when he doesn't go all the way into sheer curmudgeon territory, which he often does, but even that is kind of endearing). The argument is that academic pursuits are worthy simply in and of themselves, and should not be justified by either political/ideological advocacy on the part of faculty nor accountability to market principles or lawmakers'/funders' ideas of what universities should do.
It does leave me wondering about the project of Christian higher education. There was certainly an emphasis on turning out particular types of students at the university I attended, which might run afoul of Fish's call to "academicize" everything. He also says that sectarian institutions have the right to be whatever they want, though, so not quite sure how that squares.
March 22, 2011
Best book about academia I've ever read
June 4, 2024
I’d like to say I loved this book about higher education. Fish’s class on Milton was one of my best educational experiences, and while I often disagree with him I’ve always enjoyed reading him. I liked to fantasize that I could emulate in my own small way the figure of scholar teacher and administrator in the way people like Fish or Michael Roth seem to pull off with ease. Nonetheless, the book is cranky and reads like something from a different educational world. Perhaps I could read it more sympathetically if I think of it as an intellectual and educational utopia. That is, a world that exists precisely nowhere. Ah well. A swing and a miss. Even Babe Ruth struck out 1300 times.
July 10, 2019
I couldn't agree with the central thesis of this book more, which means Fish is pushing at an open door with me, but (as usual) I found his argument compelling - even while having the sense with him that argument is itself all ultimately a game. Does he advocate for his real beliefs, or does he pick a position and then advocate it for sheer fun and mischief? This is the question on my mind whenever I read a Fish book or essay.
June 14, 2020
Garbage book and human
December 5, 2015
Stanley Fish is usually fun to read: he's smart and a smart-aleck. He's also--and quite unusually--an experienced administrator (at the University of Illinois) as well as a leading scholar. So when he writes about what universities are for, and how they ought to understand and represent themselves, he deserves a hearing.
Fish has One Point to make: Universities are for the generation and dissemination of knowledge and academic skills by experts in particular fields. The End. Universities betray their special purpose as soon as they present higher learning in terms of other things: business (career preparation), civics (citizen formation), ethics (production of sympathetic, respectful neighbours), and so on.
He allows (refreshingly) that religious schools have their distinctive additional concerns to indoctrinate (one might prefer to say "educate") students in a particular tradition and to more broadly develop properly observant practitioners of that religion. But he says so merely in passing.
Fish is right, in my view, to warn professors away from trying to do things we're not trained to do. (Oddly, he never notes that among the things we're not well trained to do is teach, but I expect he hopes we'll pick that up quickly.)
I found this a salutary observation particularly in my current world of undergraduate Christian education that is currently all a-twitter about "liturgies of learning" and "formation" and "co-curricula" and the like. I'm absolutely in favour of all those things, even as I note that as far back as the 1960s Christian educators already were calling us away from too narrow a focus on mere ideas, world views, and the like. (For example, the young Nicholas Wolterstorff headed a curriculum committee at Calvin College that called for exactly this broadening of concern a full 50 years before Jamie Smith called for it...in the very same school.) As I say, I'm all for us Christian educators being aware of the semiotics of *all* that we do that communicates values and information to students, from the architecture (and lighting) of buildings to how professors dress to when we hold office hours to how we greet students and expect to be addressed. All that is important and deserves attention.
What I got from reading Fish, however, was a shot in the arm to focus on what I know best and can do best: teach my actual subject. And, by extension, to teach it Christianly. For if there is one thing that I can give my students that no one else can, or will, it is an expert introduction to my subject and, if I've done my proper homework, some guidance to critically and creatively engaging in my subject from a Christian point of view. No one in Student Life can do that. No one in the athletic department or musical ensembles or drama societies can do that. We all have to work together to produce a coherent and salubrious learning environment for our students, yes, and I'm on record as stoutly supporting all that Christian colleges and universities do beyond the classroom. But within the classroom, I had jolly well be able to teach my subject skillfully and to help students participate in it well...and particularly as Christians. That is my special work, and I must not be distracted from it by political or economic or even spiritual concerns.
What I did *not* get from Fish, alas, was a clear rationale for just why it is important, on academic terms alone, that we study what we do and why the public should help pay for it. He is clear about how we should not allow categories and concerns from elsewhere (e.g., the business world of donors or the political world of legislators) to dominate the academic agenda. But why should we do what we do on academic terms, beyond sheer "love of the game," and why should anyone else help pay for it, as we want donors and legislatures to do?
Still, the critique he offers of alternatives is trenchant, and often downright amusing as he skewers many of his most distinguished colleagues in American university administration. He shows how destructive are versions of "political correctness" (whether of the left or the right); how "diversity" is often not only beside the point, but militates against the very point of the university (although he omits discussion of good epistemological reasons for diversity, which I expect he both knows and appreciates); and how the usual approach taken by administrators of dignified, moderate, and flexible rhetoric in the face of attack is actually counter-productive. Fish clearly is of the "a good offence is the best defence" school, and I find that refreshing. (Those who know me will not be surprised.)
So Fish doesn't do everything I wish he would have. He doesn't even do everything I genuinely think he should have. But what he did do in the book was eminently worth my while, and perhaps it will be worth yours, too.
Fish has One Point to make: Universities are for the generation and dissemination of knowledge and academic skills by experts in particular fields. The End. Universities betray their special purpose as soon as they present higher learning in terms of other things: business (career preparation), civics (citizen formation), ethics (production of sympathetic, respectful neighbours), and so on.
He allows (refreshingly) that religious schools have their distinctive additional concerns to indoctrinate (one might prefer to say "educate") students in a particular tradition and to more broadly develop properly observant practitioners of that religion. But he says so merely in passing.
Fish is right, in my view, to warn professors away from trying to do things we're not trained to do. (Oddly, he never notes that among the things we're not well trained to do is teach, but I expect he hopes we'll pick that up quickly.)
I found this a salutary observation particularly in my current world of undergraduate Christian education that is currently all a-twitter about "liturgies of learning" and "formation" and "co-curricula" and the like. I'm absolutely in favour of all those things, even as I note that as far back as the 1960s Christian educators already were calling us away from too narrow a focus on mere ideas, world views, and the like. (For example, the young Nicholas Wolterstorff headed a curriculum committee at Calvin College that called for exactly this broadening of concern a full 50 years before Jamie Smith called for it...in the very same school.) As I say, I'm all for us Christian educators being aware of the semiotics of *all* that we do that communicates values and information to students, from the architecture (and lighting) of buildings to how professors dress to when we hold office hours to how we greet students and expect to be addressed. All that is important and deserves attention.
What I got from reading Fish, however, was a shot in the arm to focus on what I know best and can do best: teach my actual subject. And, by extension, to teach it Christianly. For if there is one thing that I can give my students that no one else can, or will, it is an expert introduction to my subject and, if I've done my proper homework, some guidance to critically and creatively engaging in my subject from a Christian point of view. No one in Student Life can do that. No one in the athletic department or musical ensembles or drama societies can do that. We all have to work together to produce a coherent and salubrious learning environment for our students, yes, and I'm on record as stoutly supporting all that Christian colleges and universities do beyond the classroom. But within the classroom, I had jolly well be able to teach my subject skillfully and to help students participate in it well...and particularly as Christians. That is my special work, and I must not be distracted from it by political or economic or even spiritual concerns.
What I did *not* get from Fish, alas, was a clear rationale for just why it is important, on academic terms alone, that we study what we do and why the public should help pay for it. He is clear about how we should not allow categories and concerns from elsewhere (e.g., the business world of donors or the political world of legislators) to dominate the academic agenda. But why should we do what we do on academic terms, beyond sheer "love of the game," and why should anyone else help pay for it, as we want donors and legislatures to do?
Still, the critique he offers of alternatives is trenchant, and often downright amusing as he skewers many of his most distinguished colleagues in American university administration. He shows how destructive are versions of "political correctness" (whether of the left or the right); how "diversity" is often not only beside the point, but militates against the very point of the university (although he omits discussion of good epistemological reasons for diversity, which I expect he both knows and appreciates); and how the usual approach taken by administrators of dignified, moderate, and flexible rhetoric in the face of attack is actually counter-productive. Fish clearly is of the "a good offence is the best defence" school, and I find that refreshing. (Those who know me will not be surprised.)
So Fish doesn't do everything I wish he would have. He doesn't even do everything I genuinely think he should have. But what he did do in the book was eminently worth my while, and perhaps it will be worth yours, too.
June 7, 2011
Interestingly presented argument by Fish who basically states that universities and professors need to keep the preaching of partisan politics out of their classrooms and remember that a university/college's job is basically to introduce students to knowledge they did not know previously and "equip them with the analytical skills" that will help them move on in those areas of study on their own once the course is done. Keep your soapbox out of the classroom.
Fish has some interesting points. Some arguments are stronger and better focused than others, but his basic point is a good one. Like other commentators I've heard before, Fish is someone who you have to keep reading to fully understand his argument and meaning. Don't take his comments out of context (and don’t just read a sentence and stop to rant about it) because his comments won't be accurate (and it wouldn't be fair to the author). For instance, he has an issue with the phrase “respecting the voices of others� (something stressed in every class in seemingly every grade in school). Fish makes a decent point by saying we should not respect the voices of others simply because they are others. We should "respect the voices of those others whose arguments and recommendations you find coherent and persuasive." (p. 54) This is something I tried to teach my students. I'm not going to respect or listen to your opinion simply because it’s different than mine. Nor am I necessarily going to agree with your point of view. But if you have solid enough arguments and present them clearly, I'm going to at least understand your point of view and respect your opinion, and we can civilly agree to disagree.
Another bit I liked is how Fish refers to the seeming need for liberal arts to justify themselves, this idea that some area of study only has a purpose if it has, as he says, “an extracurricular payoff.� He makes a great point when he says liberal arts are their own reward, here and now. He says, “If you are committed to an enterprise and have internalized its values, you don’t spend time . . . asking questions like ‘what is this good for?� . . . it’s good because it’s what you like to do.� (p. 59) A great point. So stop trying to justify your enjoyment of studying poetry or literature or woman’s studies or whatever. It has a purpose because it’s what you love doing and enriches you.
There are many interesting points here, including the stress to teach writing—meaning how to actually use the language—in writing class. (He gives some sad examples of how some of his college students didn’t know how a basic sentence worked, and made some accurate digs at certain writing styles that reinforces and completely explains my dislike for reading newspapers and certain academic-ese.) He refers to and addresses his critics� points against him, addresses some more controversial speakers, and even brings up the issue of Intelligent Design. He also has a short chapter about the actual job of a university administrator, which was eye opening. Some arguments seemed to go a bit long, and some of his solutions seem a bit lost in his arguments. But it was refreshing to read that Fish actually offers solutions instead of just complaining about the wrongs.
Some arguments could have been more succinct yet just as strong, but there are some interesting points with decent arguments that help the reader see where Fish is coming from and understand his point.
July 29, 2008
Stanley Fish doesn't seem like a very nice guy, but he does make me think. His premise is that all of this civic engagement, save the world stuff is ruining higher ed. Academics are good at creating and dissiminating knowledge and that's about it. Adding anything else to the job description is a farce and gets us away from our central mission. You can study whatever you want, but you must "academicize" it. His mantra is that we should "do our job, don't do anyone else's job and don't let anyone else to our job for us."
The word academicize sound like something on the Colbert Report and Fish (as usual) takes his point too far, but there's something true in what he says. There's a lot of mission creep in academics lately and this book is a good corrective. Still-I side a little more with Bok than with Fish.
One other thing--there are a few tirades in here that just don't contribute to his central point. For instance, he discusses how he teaches writing. This section is interesting, but has absolutely nothing to do with the rest of the book.
This book would be interesting to some academics, but I can't imagine any non-academic giving wanting to spend any time with this book.
The word academicize sound like something on the Colbert Report and Fish (as usual) takes his point too far, but there's something true in what he says. There's a lot of mission creep in academics lately and this book is a good corrective. Still-I side a little more with Bok than with Fish.
One other thing--there are a few tirades in here that just don't contribute to his central point. For instance, he discusses how he teaches writing. This section is interesting, but has absolutely nothing to do with the rest of the book.
This book would be interesting to some academics, but I can't imagine any non-academic giving wanting to spend any time with this book.
December 20, 2008
The book starts out will, with a thesis that is laid out with clarity and force. Somewhere along the way, though, Fish turns into a cranky old guy. And what's worse, a repetitive cranky old guy. By the second last chapter he has lost sight of his subject and falls into a general rant about the sorry state of educational funding.
July 20, 2013
This passage alone merits three stars: When I was a dean, the question I was most often asked by faculty members was, "Why do administrators make so much more money than we do?" The answer I gave was simple: administrators work harder, they have more work to do, and they actually do it.
April 20, 2016
It was said by Max Weber nearly a century ago, but it the message needed to be heard again. As a doc student and part-time lecturer I find the argument compelling, and highly relevant to my future endeavors. Great read from a no-nonsense author.
May 23, 2011
Stanley Fish is always provocative - by design - and this book is no exception. A quick and thought-provoking read about the academic profession.
October 27, 2009
Crotchety old man. Correct, but still crotchety.
February 12, 2017
This punchy little book defends a disarmingly simple thesis, which is that the mission of higher education is to teach students. Fish describes himself as a "reductionist" about higher education, and rejects arguments that higher education and the liberal arts serve the cause of creating humane people, democratic citizens, productive workers, or any other moral or political ideal. Instead, the purpose of higher education is to instruct students about different areas of human inquiry and impart to them the analytical skills to conduct inquiry.
The liberal arts, on Fish's view, exist entirely for their own sake and not for any other instrumental end. Any effort to justify the liberal arts on economic, moral, or political grounds weakens and corrupts the true value of the liberal arts and leads to confusion over questions such as academic freedom or university governance. This conclusion is perhaps dispiriting to those attracted to the liberal arts, but the mere fact that it is dispiriting does not mean it is false.
In my judgment, Fish is at his strongest when identifying the dangers of over-broad and ambitious missions for higher education. These dangers include confusing advocacy with teaching, inflating academic freedom into a license to do whatever you want (academic freedom is merely the freedom to do an academic job), and submerging campus politics abstract, moralized language that obscure rather than illuminates the real issues at stake. Fish brings admirable clarity at the level of principles to questions of free speech on campus, but I think he is mistaken about matters of fact when he claims that campus speech codes and administrative barriers to free speech on campus are not a significant fact of life on campus. He also presents an illuminating response to various conservative criticisms of higher education surrounding the alleged promotion of relativism and postmodernism by faculty.
However, this book's reductionism about the value of higher education isn't fully satisfactory to me. Students aren't excited about taking a philosophy or literature course because they want to learn about the evolution of a discipline. They are excited because they're curious and find the readings in the course interesting, and because they think there is something important /for them/ in the ideas they encounter. I don't think we can get away from the personal and developmental aspect of education, and the developmental aspect of education pulls in the opposite direction of the "academicizing" that Fish endorses. "Academicizing" certainly has great value and a good teacher successfully introduces students to a disciplinary body of research, but great liberal arts educators also help students understand themselves. Fish's approach perhaps generates competent teachers that can separate education from saving the world, but it doesn't account for the really exceptional teachers out there or give any further analysis of the academic curiosity Fish thinks is self-evidently valuable.
The liberal arts, on Fish's view, exist entirely for their own sake and not for any other instrumental end. Any effort to justify the liberal arts on economic, moral, or political grounds weakens and corrupts the true value of the liberal arts and leads to confusion over questions such as academic freedom or university governance. This conclusion is perhaps dispiriting to those attracted to the liberal arts, but the mere fact that it is dispiriting does not mean it is false.
In my judgment, Fish is at his strongest when identifying the dangers of over-broad and ambitious missions for higher education. These dangers include confusing advocacy with teaching, inflating academic freedom into a license to do whatever you want (academic freedom is merely the freedom to do an academic job), and submerging campus politics abstract, moralized language that obscure rather than illuminates the real issues at stake. Fish brings admirable clarity at the level of principles to questions of free speech on campus, but I think he is mistaken about matters of fact when he claims that campus speech codes and administrative barriers to free speech on campus are not a significant fact of life on campus. He also presents an illuminating response to various conservative criticisms of higher education surrounding the alleged promotion of relativism and postmodernism by faculty.
However, this book's reductionism about the value of higher education isn't fully satisfactory to me. Students aren't excited about taking a philosophy or literature course because they want to learn about the evolution of a discipline. They are excited because they're curious and find the readings in the course interesting, and because they think there is something important /for them/ in the ideas they encounter. I don't think we can get away from the personal and developmental aspect of education, and the developmental aspect of education pulls in the opposite direction of the "academicizing" that Fish endorses. "Academicizing" certainly has great value and a good teacher successfully introduces students to a disciplinary body of research, but great liberal arts educators also help students understand themselves. Fish's approach perhaps generates competent teachers that can separate education from saving the world, but it doesn't account for the really exceptional teachers out there or give any further analysis of the academic curiosity Fish thinks is self-evidently valuable.
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