Author: Ben Murphy

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Opinions

Investing in an Intentional Future

I started the slow arduous ascent (or is it a descent?) along the road towards graduate school last May. Why did I begin preparing so early? Well, if you ever score below the tenth percentile mark on the math portion of a practice GRE (graduate record exam), then you’ll experience a similar sense of urgent compulsion to spend the summer studying, studying, studying.

benSo, after countless summer hours passed in the demanding company of my “Kaplan prep” practice book, I returned to Houghton to take the horrible GRE and start my applications proper. Round about October I compiled information for specific, potential schools. I honed writing samples and personal statements, and I solicited recommendations from faculty. I paid an arm and several legs for fees that rained like fire from the sky. I ran around campus tying up loose ends—transcripts, resumes, etc. Then, by December, I submitted my completed applications. As some of you surely know, all this stuff is hard work, and the satisfaction of clicking the send button on all those stupid electronic documents is wonderful.

What I’ve so far narrated is the external process of putting my name in the daunting and immense hat that is the current pool of graduate school applicants. Now I want to recall the more internal but no less excruciating process of deciding whether or not it was a good idea to apply in the first place.

I should start by emphasizing that I’m a humanities major who has applied to English programs in hopes of someday teaching in a college setting. So there’s the first and biggest problem. The job market for English positions at post-secondary institutions is abysmal. We’ve all heard the woes of education inflation; there’s no denying that academic degrees mean less now than they ever have before, and as an aspiring English “scholar,” these dire conditions hit especially close to home. The message that most of the world sent me was “don’t go.”

Due to the above-mentioned circumstances, my decision to apply was hard earned at the price of months of fraught consideration. Though, in retrospect, I think the inner turmoil was necessary. It was only after wrestling with all the reasons not to apply that I came to realize that those reasons had nothing to do with my desire to pursue study and employment in the field I love. Liberal arts (and Houghton specifically) played an essential role in this realization. I’ll do my best to explain, but because chapel this semester is focusing on “vocation,” I think I’ll frame the remainder of my explanation in similar language.

Do we come to Houghton to get a job? Are we here to take the first steps up a salary ladder? Are we here for a glorious and future retirement? My hope is that the answer to these questions is a repeating “no.” Though these concerns are important, they are not most important. Though they should be considered in our decisions, they should not dictate our decisions. I know we’ve all heard the tired catchphrases about the strengths of a liberal arts education, but I want to earnestly reiterate the belief that a place like Houghton is more about what you make of yourself than it is about what you can make in a paycheck. Though this truth may not be apparent always (what with the bombarding bad news about the economy, job market, and doom-ridden future), it is crucial to remember the value of years of hard work alongside committed peers and mentors in a deliberate and mindful community.

Now I’m going to step off my soapbox to briefly return to my personal journey. In the face of what felt like cosmic naysaying, key people at Houghton encouraged me to commit to what I care about. This support was essential because it came from caring people who appreciate the satisfaction of investing in liberal arts. They know me, and they also know the rich complexity of enmeshing oneself in a challenging, thoughtful and holistic life.

Even if I don’t get accepted this year (which is looking like a real possibility at this point, especially as I’ve just now received a rejection letter), I’m confident that I will someday leave a graduate school with a terminal degree in English. At that point, I may not immediately find a teaching position. At that point, I may be one of thousands of equally educated peers drifting from one job listing to another. I may be no further along in being sure about my future. But at that point I will not regret my earlier decision to use my gifts, abilities, and resources to commit things that put joy in my life.

It’s probable that I’m over-simplifying by spewing platitudes that you’ve all heard before. It’s also probable that I’m naïve, that what I’m saying doesn’t apply in the least to you. Obviously, it’s also true that a place like Houghton isn’t the only route for you or me to attain a worthwhile future. But is it also possible that Houghton does actually provide what we need to flourish out in “the real world”?

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Stories In Focus

Houghton in Context: Women in Academia

In 2008, for the first time ever, women earned more than 50 percent of awarded PhDs. Despite this shift in the majority, women are still nationally underrepresented as tenured faculty in higher education. According to a 2006 American Association of University Professors (AAUP) report, 31.2 percent of all tenured faculty members are women. This figure is actually slightly higher than the situation at Houghton, where 26 percent of all tenured professors are women.

Sarah Derck
Sarah Derck

Though there are surely manifold causes feeding into this discrepancy between qualified female PhDs and tenured women faculty with respect to both the nation and Houghton specifically, many point to the complications of family formation as a key-contributing factor. For example, in 2011, a writer for the Chronicle of Higher Education stated that, “Most women [professors], it seems, cannot have it all—tenure and a family—while most men can.” Similarly, Slate magazine ran an article describing the “baby penalty” levied against women in academia that reads, “family formation negatively affects women’s, but not men’s, academic careers. For men, having children is a career advantage; for women, it is a career killer.”

            Though these and similar statements undoubtedly highlight issues for women academics across the United States, both seem to miss the mark when it comes to addressing the experience of mothers teaching at Houghton.

Dr. Sarah Derck of the Bible and Religion Department interviewed for her position at Houghton while pregnant. Though fully aware of relevant, federal anti-discriminatory laws, she says that she did feel nervous that her first child would somehow complicate getting a job. However, from day one at Houghton, she said, “every single conversation has been celebrating with me and [my husband,] Josh, [saying] let’s see what we can do to make this work.” Currently in the early stages of a tenure-track position, Derck said that this level of support has endured, bearing “evidence of a real valuing of family on Houghton’s campus”

Also pursuing a tenure track position, Dr. Rebekah Yates of Math and Computer Science is equally

Rebekah Yates
Rebekah Yates

quick to recognize the ways in which Houghton—and specifically her department—has proved supportive in being “aware of what happens when you have a child.” As Yates commented, the hyper-awareness on the second-floor of Paine may have something to do with the five children born to Math/Computer Science faculty within the last two years. Identifying with women who may feel derided for deciding to have children mid-career, Yates did recognize what she called an “implicit double standard” that treats male and female parenting in academics differently. However, she was also quick to comment that she believes this trend stretches beyond academia to “pervade much of our culture.”

Dr. Kristin Camenga, also of Math and Computer Science, echoed her two colleagues quoted above in expressing that she has felt “affirmed in [her] role as a mother here.” When asked to identify specific ways that Houghton has supported her as a teaching mother, Camenga highlighted the college’s unusual policy of allowing tenure-track professors to modulate between two-thirds time and full time from semester-to-semester. This systematic “flexibility,” as Camenga described it, made a “significant difference” in allowing her to devote time and energy to young children when necessary.

The feelings of Derck, Yates, and Camenga with respect to feeling confident to pursue both tenure and raise a family are corroborated by the details of recent rank and tenure appointments. Last year the college granted tenure to seven individuals. Five of these faculty members were women, and of these five, four have two or more children. These numbers stand in stark contrast to National Science Foundation (NSF) data that says, “across all disciplines, women with children [are] 38 percent less likely than men with children to achieve tenure.”

Like the rest of the nation, our faculty exhibits a wide gender-gap in tenured faculty. And while it is true that family formation is simply one of many complex factors within this issue, the experience of several women at Houghton suggests that our campus is out-performing others in this specific area. So much so, in fact, that Yates speculated whether or not teaching and parenting at Houghton might actually be harder for young male professors. Perhaps excellent fodder for a later article, this question is surely a good indicator that, though nowhere near perfect, our community is doing something very right.

 

Categories
Opinions

Words Matter: A Proposal for Change

“And Goddess said, Let us make woman in our image, after our likeness: and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth. So Goddess created woman in her own image, in the image of Goddess created she her; female and male created she them.” –Genesis 1:26-27

goddessThe (somewhat) familiar words that appear above are taken from the digital version of the “Queen Jamie” Bible found through a curious little website called “regender.com.” Though I’m not proposing that we henceforth adopt this translation at Houghton, I include this website as one example of many tools that are used to demonstrate the real and affective power of language. The issue of considerate, respectful usage extends to every aspect of meaningful interaction with others. Words mean things and exclusive, hurtful words, whether used deliberately or not, can communicate damaging messages. Words matter. As far as I’m concerned, the validity of this short statement is not up for debate. I’d add that, whether you’re incensed or intrigued by the passage quoted at the start, you’ve proved my analysis correct.

Acknowledging that words matter, the question becomes, how do we handle language? Issues of “language justice” are wide and varied. One may note that there are certain discriminatory names that we’ve agreed not to call one another. The fact that I need not identify them is proof enough of our more-or-less consensual agreement. I say more-or-less because, of course, battles are still being fought, and though I don’t want to callously ignore sensitive issues, I do want to zero in on the one area of language usage of which I believe Houghton as an institution is negligent, namely, gender-inclusive language.

Despite the way I started this piece, I don’t want to address gender-inclusive language only with respect to the Bible. Certainly, I think the way we talk about gender, theology, and Christianity is important to consider, and if you are interested in this intersection, get ahold of Dr. Lacelle-Peterson’s book, “Liberating Tradition.” Leaving that conversation to experts, I will use the remainder of my space to talk about the more broad presence (or, rather, absence) of gender-inclusive language standards at Houghton.

I recently interviewed several faculty members as part of a project on inclusive language. None of them could point to any college-wide policy that actively addresses gender-inclusivity with respect to college communications, student usage and awareness, or academic writing guidelines. Though several years ago there was a “diversity committee” set up to draft a school-wide policy on the topic, the resulting document was never institutionalized. Though some individuals voluntarily include sections of this proposed policy in their syllabi, there are no stated, compulsory expectations.

I was surprised by my lack of findings. I decided to research official policies at other institutions. Every school that I found in my search was connected with respect to approving, adopting, or maintaining this or that guideline for non-sexist communication, whether in academic writing, in marketing, or in student handbooks (for example, UNC replaced every instance of “freshman” with “first year student”). Lest you think that I’m unjustly pushing “secular standards” of higher education (whatever that means), I’ll go ahead and mention some examples closer to home. Apart from many seminary institutions, Calvin College, George Fox University, Goshen College, Westmont College, and Wheaton College all deliberately and publicly use their website to address the importance of gender inclusive and non-discriminatory language.

In identifying the above schools, I don’t mean to suggest that they have all the kinks figured out. People in higher education everywhere struggle with flawlessly maintaining gender-inclusive language; no one is perfect, and surely mistakes are made in myriad places and contexts. I’m also not insinuating that the Houghton community has done nothing to support gender-inclusive language. Many individuals consistently model consciousness usage, and I’m thankful that, as I mentioned, some professors have addressed gender-inclusive language on their own terms. I bring up other schools because doing so emphasizes the dramatic lack of institutional support at Houghton. Relying on instructor-initiated treatment unnecessarily politicizes what should be a non-issue, and the preeminence of gender-inclusive usage should supersede professorial preference. For deeply moral and political reasons, it’s simply a fact that no serious college has made it to this point in the 21st century without requiring gender-inclusive language.

Call it naiveté, but I’m optimistic that the majority of people at Houghton will agree with me. In the spirit of community dialogue recently championed by Dean Jordan in his “Christians and Same Sex Attraction” lecture, I welcome any disagreement in the form of conversation. However, if my hopes about this community prove true, then the institution need only stand behind its individuals. It’s time we make up our mind, make it policy, and make it public.

Categories
Arts

“Repave”: Just Another Bon Iver Album

A friend of mine recently asked me if I thought Justin Vernon was talented or simply creative. This struck me as an interesting and stupid question. Aren’t they synonymous? In lieu of comparing Webster’s definition (you all have iPhones, look it up yourself), I’ll say, after some reflection, I don’t think they are quite the same.

Courtesy of facebook.com
Courtesy of facebook.com

Either under his moniker Bon Iver (French for “good winter”) or with a number of different side projects, Justin Vernon has been a name in indie-alternative music since 2007. Among his best forays is his Volcano Choir collaboration with the WI based post-rock group “Collections of Colonies of Bees.” Their album Unmap was well received in 2009, and it was only a year after this success that the group began writing for the recent August release of Repave.

Though Vernon discourages the comparison, Repave is just another Bon Iver album. Of course, saying that it’s just another Bon Iver album is like saying that it’s just another Alex Glover SPOT song. It’s just another wildly original and captivating work of genius. Far from criticizing, I note the similarity between Repave and Bon Iver only to emphasize the indelible, pervasive vocals. Vernon’s soaring falsetto and chanting refrains stand out, no matter the venue. Not only does it sound the same, but, like Vernon’s last Bon Iver album, Repave is lyrically inscrutable. Even if you manage to make out a line here and there you will likely be perplexed with what you find. Consider the end of the song “Keel”, where Vernon moans out the lines, “Not before, I was in front, of the pekid fountain, The whole time.” Pekid isn’t even a word. At one point in “Comrade” he squeal-yells the words “Terra forming.” No, you’re not missing something; the words just don’t make any sense.

In a generous mood, Keats might say that Vernon has latched on to some serious negative capability. That is, he is effectively communicating without necessarily making himself understood. Vernon’s writing –like Eliot’s Four Quartets and beat era poetry—pillages words for their aesthetic leverage while caring little for any sort of categorical communication. It is hard to quantify this achievement. It’s not that his songs are about nothing. They are simply about things that usually go unsaid either because we don’t know how to say them or nobody is listening. You can point to them and say, yes, exactly, this guy gets it. You can sing along with him. But beyond that your explanations are bound to go awry.

While the vocal delivery and mystical “songwriting” is similar to Bon Iver, Repave does fall short of delivering the breadth of experience found in Vernon’s other work. This is an abstract criticism for an abstract work, but let me try to explain. Part of what makes Bon Iver’s first album so great is that each track sets itself apart from the others. The pieces of “For Emma, Forever Ago” are self-contained as individual expressions webbed loosely together in notions of isolation, dejection, and longing. They are thematically related but stand on their own as subtle modulations of tone and delivery. Bon Iver’s second album maintains this variety but imbues everything with a full-bodied, anthem-rock atmosphere. As a whole, the album is more confident and assertive. Volcano Choir’s Repave goes one step too far in this direction. The album throbs irrepressibly onwards without providing necessary space for reflection or development. Instead of delving a range of emotions and responses, Repave presents a limited, authoritative tone. It is too sure of itself, and, as a result, it is monotonous.

In answer to my friend’s question, I would say that Justin Vernon is creative. I’m not at a loss to explain how he made this album. In other words, his talent as a musician or songwriter doesn’t blow me away. I know he used computers, digital effects, lots of angst, and a hefty dose of spontaneously overflowing powerful emotions. He is one of many artists that could do this. But what sets him apart is not what his work means, but how it means. Not how does he make the work, but how does he make it work. That’s the headscratcher.

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Arts

Atoms for Peace Release Album

“Atoms for Peace” is variously referred to as either a supergroup ‘including’ or a side-project ‘belonging to’ its most famous and influential member, Radiohead’s Thom Yorke. Technically speaking, it might better be described as a supergroup formed as the result of a side project of a side project, considering that the band’s first and only album originated due to a string of live performances of Yorke’s 2006 solo release, which was, in itself, a foray away from Radiohead.

Courtesy of collapseboard.com
Courtesy of collapseboard.com

It was in 2009 that Flea (bassist for Red Hot Chili Peppers), Mauro Refrosco (Forro in the Dark percussionist and tour performer for Red Hot Chili Peppers), Nigel Godrich (Radiohead producer), and Joey Waronker (Beck and R.E.M percussion journeyman) joined Yorke to provide live renditions of his highly computer-generated The Eraser. The chemistry and material developed during the practice sessions for this tour period would, several years later, materialize into the group’s February 2013 Amok.

Though surely crucial to the finished product, the names of the producers and percussionists are, perhaps unsurprisingly, not nearly as eye catching as is the renowned moniker Flea. Almost always performing in some state of undress, this is the same Flea who, in the early days of RHCP, joined his bandmates on stage wearing nothing more than a single, strategically placed sock; it is also, perhaps less famously, the same Flea who voiced the feral child character of “Donnie” in the now classic cartoon show, The Wild Thornberrys.

Such a past doesn’t seem to immediately accord with Yorke’s social activism and highbrow music recognition. The seeming disparities between Yorke’s public image as the chic albeit weird British vegan and Flea’s long, and very punk American history are bridged by a single word: ability. Only a bassist with the technical skill and acumen that Flea has would stand a chance of turning anything that Yorke made on his laptop into a playable, performable track.

Flea is evident throughout Amok, making himself immediately apparent in the opening track, ”Before Your Eyes,” and particularly integral in tracks such as “Stuck Together Pieces” and “Reverse Running.” Without his invigorating line delivered starting a minute into “Dropped,” something like a sped-up version of Weezer’s “Only in the Dreams,” the track would lose both momentum and appeal.

Although neither the riffs nor the jumpy, explorative bass are completely beyond the punk and funk roots with which he is so long acquainted, Flea does, overall, settle into an uncharacteristically understated role. His consistent bouncing along underneath Yorke’s familiar “Creep” croon and varying degrees of synth inundation doesn’t so much overwhelm the Chili Peppers legend as it does sublimate him, making him more of a textural accent than a center of attention.

While playing find-the-Flea throughout Amok provides a familiar point of reference, navigating the more computerized extremities of the album is a much more nebulous task. Speaking to Rolling Stone about the sessions that produced the album, Yorke commented, ”One of the things we were most excited about was ending up with a record where you weren’t quite sure where the human starts and the machine ends.”

This certainly seems to be the effect. There are points in certain tracks that seem to occur in a realm entirely above where traditional instruments and voices can follow, such as the whole of “Ingenue” or the psychobabble interlude in “Unless.” Luckily for the group, this ethereal realm also happens to be where Yorke’s voice seems most comfortable.

Whatever the finer technicalities behind the particular indefinable noises happens to be, it is hard not to appreciate them simply for their immaculate precision. They are hard to explain and figure out, but, somehow, they “just work” and we appreciate it. Indeed, isn’t this the way we often think about and thank our machines? This, it seems, is precisely Yorke and company’s point.

While both the intriguing collaborative product of RHCP and Radiohead and the mysteriously alluring mechanization are worth considering, Amok is, as a whole, a journey to nowhere. The album lacks the energy and smart distinctions, subtle or otherwise, needed to alert the listener to progress or development. There are no maps and no landmarks; a writer for Pitchfork describes it as “giving a perpetual sense of jogging in place.” It is ironic that an album which ends with the repeated lines, “to run amok, run amok, run amok,” does, in fact, pan out like a treadmill stuck on some useless in-between speed.

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Arts

The Grammys: A Broken Promise

Courtesy of http://venturebeat.com/
Courtesy of http://venturebeat.com/

Although such declamations are hardly conventional, this article had better begin with full disclosure on two accounts: I did not watch the 2013 Grammys, and, before writing this, I did not know anything about the Grammy Awards in general. This look is from a newbie. It is not my intention provide a comprehensive list of the winners and reactions; such an angle would be both stale and, from my perspective, ill-informed. I will, instead, try to bring some things that I do know to the 2013 Grammy Awards.

For those not familiar, pitchfork.com is a Chicago area music blog publication, which offers reviews, exclusives, interviews, breaking news, video releases, and
recommendations. Off the record, it is only fair to mention that Pitchfork is, in some sense, analogous with snobbery. Such criticism is neither ill deserved nor a secret. Keeping this reputation in mind, ponder this pattern: the worse the Pitchfork review, the better the Grammy reception.

After absolutely lambasting the 2010 “Sigh No More” release, nowhere does Pitchfork even utter the name of the 2013 Grammy-winning “Album of the Year,” Mumford and Son’s “Babel.” And although the winner for “Best Alternative Album,” Goyte’s “Making Mirrors,” is given time of day for a review, Pitchfork actually rated it lower than three of the four losing Grammy nominations, two of which appear on the website tagged under “best new music.” A Pitchfork search for Bonnie Raitt, the 2013 Grammy winner for “Best Americana Album” will only yield a Bon Iver cover of one of her songs. Artists take note; if Pitchfork slights you, you may be in for a golden statue.

Some readers familiar with both Pitchfork and the Grammys may take issue with the above juxtapositions: isn’t it obvious that the two are after different things? Let’s find out. The tagline to Pitchfork’s website reads, “the essential guide to independent music and beyond.” The Grammys, on the other hand, are charged with “honoring achievements in the recording arts and supporting the music community,” as “The Recording Academy” section of official website states.

If both of these claims are to be taken seriously, then the relationship between the two is actually pretty clear. Pitchfork operates within a specific, small, dry spot underneath the umbrella of “the music community;” it is within precisely this genre-niche that the three Awards discussed in the previous paragraph belong. The question, then, is should we take both claims seriously? Is one unforgiving but honest, and the other, while ostensibly broad, much less open-minded than service to the “the music community” ought to demand?
Consider the Rolling Stone’s review of “Babel” on September 10, 2012. Apart from suggesting a lot of things that I don’t pretend to understand, including the implications of the group doubling down on “the ‘ole time religion” and the complications of using ‘church flavor’ to supersize and complicate love songs,” the article does bring some interesting observations to the forefront.

The reviewer gives Mumford and Sons praise for a “shinier, punchier, more arena-scale” performance. He twice compares the new sound to U2 and suggests that the accompanying lyrics are full of “Biblical metaphors swirling like detritus in a Christopher Nolan film.” Whatever original or unique elements that, three years ago, squeaked “Sigh No More” painfully onto Pitchfork have since been completely replaced with a new, homogenized amalgamation of Batman and Bono. Music that once belonged, however tenuously, in the realm of indie is now awarded for having become something else.

This is not meant to be an indictment of the Grammys. The point is not to praise the obscure and denigrate the popular. The issue lies in addressing a broken promise. Despite its own proclamation, the Grammys are about performance and popularity. The Award Show is a reproduction of the radio punctuated by mini-Super-Bowl halftime shows. Some genres are elevated and others, such as the small and shrinking categories devoted to alternative, americana, and folk, are neglected. What should, according to its own standards, support the “music community” actually and simply reinforces the music industry.