Written by Michael Rothberg, Unit for Criticism and Interpretive Theory
Is there a crisis of the humanities? If so, how do we characterize it and what can we do about it? If not, why is the rhetoric of crisis so persistent?
Duke University Romance Studies scholar Roberto Dainotto takes an approach to these questions that I think runs nicely against the grain of current common sense. In his recent book Europe (In Theory)—which is not primarily about the crisis of the humanities, but rather, as its title suggests, about the construction of Europe—Dainotto writes: “The problem . . . is no longer whether the humanities with their tools—rhetoric, philology, historicism—will be adequate or relevant to the technologized, quantified, and statistic-oriented sciences, but whether the latter are still capable of responding to the humanities” (9).
Is this a useful starting point for considering either the crisis of the humanities or the rhetoric of crisis? How can we reframe the rhetoric so as to avert the crisis?
The questions I’ve posed here are not meant simply as “rhetorical” questions, although questions of rhetoric are obviously at the heart of the issue of “crisis.” University administrators, state legislatures, and that vague entity known as “the public” are constantly asking us to justify ourselves—and not just in Illinois, I’m sure.
In a couple of weeks I’ll be attending the first meeting of a Humanities Board convened by our Provost. We need to develop lines of argument adequate to these times without betraying the importance of what we do. This ought to be a collective effort, so please let me know what you think.
Is there a crisis of the humanities? If so, how do we characterize it and what can we do about it? If not, why is the rhetoric of crisis so persistent?
Duke University Romance Studies scholar Roberto Dainotto takes an approach to these questions that I think runs nicely against the grain of current common sense. In his recent book Europe (In Theory)—which is not primarily about the crisis of the humanities, but rather, as its title suggests, about the construction of Europe—Dainotto writes: “The problem . . . is no longer whether the humanities with their tools—rhetoric, philology, historicism—will be adequate or relevant to the technologized, quantified, and statistic-oriented sciences, but whether the latter are still capable of responding to the humanities” (9).
Is this a useful starting point for considering either the crisis of the humanities or the rhetoric of crisis? How can we reframe the rhetoric so as to avert the crisis?
The questions I’ve posed here are not meant simply as “rhetorical” questions, although questions of rhetoric are obviously at the heart of the issue of “crisis.” University administrators, state legislatures, and that vague entity known as “the public” are constantly asking us to justify ourselves—and not just in Illinois, I’m sure.
In a couple of weeks I’ll be attending the first meeting of a Humanities Board convened by our Provost. We need to develop lines of argument adequate to these times without betraying the importance of what we do. This ought to be a collective effort, so please let me know what you think.