For nearly the first half of the twentieth century, from about tojazz was the dominant form of popular dance music in the United States.
I am going to borrow these terms in an entirely metaphorical way to name the two fundamental forces in which I live my life as a professor of literature.
The strong force is technology, not to be understood as this or that machine, or this or that branch of machinery, but as the entire organized and interdependent ensemble dictating the technicization of everyday life, from politics, economics, and bureaucratic administration, to the media, advertising, fast food, transportation, and tourism.
The technical-experimental state of mind dominates contemporary education, from the earliest grades through the university.
Over the past century the technological system has gradually become so intrinsic and all-pervasive that, like the air we breathe or the purloined letter, it often seems invisible.
Either we mystify its presence as in so many Hollywood spectaculrs, or we tend to think of it as neutral, a mere means towards freely chosen ends, and not an end in itself which uses persons as its means. Technology, the strong force, is the central feature of modern life. The weak force is essentially what I like to teach, literature.
These two forces intersect in my daily life at the English department. Let me compare a visit to our departmental office fifteen years ago and one today. Then, there were three secretaries and seven machines typewriters, telephones, a mimeograph.
Now, there are three and a half secretaries and forty-two machines word processors, copiers, printers, scanners, fax machines, portable phones, a microwave —so many machines that the office next door was taken over to house them.
Then, there were faculty gossip and the occasional discussion of literature. Then, with its casual clutter of books and some old dusty plants, the office looked like an academic department. Now, when it no longer looks like itself, it ironically looks like so much else: One morning it reminded me of the Mir Space Station, which by chance I had just seen on the news; technological society does not know the horror of mixing.
These events, I believe, are not unrelated. Technology is above all for use; if you have it, you use it. A recent faculty memorandum came to me via a fax machine from the Senate Office. It had been beamed up to a satellite a couple of hundred miles above the earth and back again; yet the Senate Office and the English department are next door to each other in the same building.
I asked myself, what earlier forms of communication did such technological overkill replace: Face-to-face contact has been replaced by face-to-machine contact. People who raise the faintest objections to technology are branded as Luddites.
Technology, however, can no longer be understood in terms of single machines; it is the system in which we live and move and have our being. There is no question of "going back. I do not want to evoke pastoral nostalgia or to dream of a lost wholeness: Such indulgence may be compared to reading old travelogues about a lovely country whose face has been scored by modernity.
Yet it may be instructive to trace the recent histories of these strong and weak forces, technology and literature, and their convergence in the present moment, though "convergence" may suggest an equality of opportunity that they do not enjoy.
At a time when the humanities have suffered greatly at the hands of technological society, they are more important to our social and ethical life than ever before in human history. Today the humanities are under attack from many quarters. Far more students take courses in behavioral psychology to learn about interpersonal elations than take courses in Shakespeare or the nineteenth-century novel.
A report in the New York Times 9 October chronicles the drop in foreign language majors from to Latin declined by eight percent, Italian by twelve, French by twenty-five, German by twenty-eight.
Philosophy, English, and religious studies have declined steadily since the s. It is sometimes said that the humanities will survive only as a plaything of technocrats or a mere adornment to life.
At best they will be the private delight of the aesthete, the antiquarian, or the bibliophile. Any assessment of the humanities in technological society should refer, if only briefly, to their foundations, to their concepts of freedom and the individual, civitas and humanitas, and to the civilizing mission they have performed during their long history: In short, by whom in the future does society wish to be represented?
The goal was to educate a person who knows not only many things, but how to rank them; who has the spark of wisdom to know where to look again for wisdom. In the later nineteenth century, when science and technology were making their demands on the curriculum, Arnold correctly perceived that humanistic values had been undermined neither by the widening of the humanities to include modern languages, nor even by nineteenth-century science.
The physical sciences did not claim to address the subjects that concerned the humanities; and the differences between them could be resolved by applying, under the eye of the humanities, scientific discoveries to the improvement of life.
Arnold conceded that the humanities would have to yield their "leading place" in education, though he also believed that they would find it again, that forces in human nature itself were working for them. He urged humanists to carry on "the disinterested pursuit of perfection"; to construct a global culture founded upon the best that has been thought and said throughout history; to evaluate the results of science on the basis of their benefit to human needs and freedom; and to nourish the sense of beauty.
What Arnold could not have known was that a whole new body of academic disciplines, the social sciences, would soon emerge to fight for their own place in the curriculum and assert their right to relate the conclusions of the physical sciences, as well as their own theories and discoveries, to human needs in the modern world.
The social sciences had encroached upon the traditional sphere of the humanities, interrogating the very same subjects and issues, claiming that they too could teach students how to lead an ethical, beneficial, and self-fulfilled life.nationwidesecretarial.com has been an NCCRS member since October The mission of nationwidesecretarial.com is to make education accessible to everyone, everywhere.
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The Bibliography Style is preferred by many in the humanities (e.g., literature, history, and the arts). This style presents bibliographic information in notes (either footnotes or endnotes) and, often, a .
Search the full text of this site. Results will link to pages containing your terms; results from subject page searches are automatically filtered by that subject. Humanities Through the Arts, tenth edition,continues to explore the humanities with an emphasis upon the arts as an expression of cultural and personal values, examining the relationship of the humanities to important values, objects and nationwidesecretarial.com book is arranged topically by art form from painting, sculpture, photography, and architecture to literature, music, theater, film, and dance.
The Chicago Manual of Style Notes/Bibliography system is used by scholars in history, arts, and humanities. For social sciences and sciences disciplines, see the Author-Date system.. This style consists of two parts. General Features. The great architecture of medieval Europe was predominantly nationwidesecretarial.com primary sacred building type of Europe is the church, a structure for Christian nationwidesecretarial.com most prevalent church layouts are the Latin cross church (in Western Europe) and central-plan church (in Eastern Europe).
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