glacial retreat (2)

Globe and Mail columnist Rex Murphy on climate change:

17 June 2000
"Great climate change may signal the advent of chaos, fundamental upheavals. You know, the usual apocalyptic derangements - planet goes to toast, reason dethroned, the dissolution of all order and pattern. David Suzuki has been telling us this for decades at least."

6 April 2002
"But despite years of 'warnings' of global warming, conferences and conventions hyping its imminence, it seems to me that we are as far away from that sunny utopia as ever."

28 September 2002
"A lot of scientists agreeing on something is not the same thing as a scientific consensus. Any sentence that begins 'A majority of the world's scientists agree . . .' is not reporting a scientific finding; it's announcing a preference. It's a poll. Real science doesn't do polls. ... When we hear of a consensus on global warming we are being told - covertly, but told nonetheless - that it isn't a scientific fact." [Replace "global warming" with "evolution" in this, and see if that makes any sense to you whatsoever.]

7 December 2002
"The science of climate control is still in short pants."

19 February 2006
"I think even people who support, vaguely, the idea of 'doing something' to stop global warming sense that the much touted 'scientific consensus' on the subject is more of a rhetorical boost for an imperfectly comprehended subject than an actual finding. We have no 'consensus' on any scientific law. It is either right or wrong - because Nature doesn't operate on a show of hands. And consensus in this context is the word that's reached for when 'fact' is unobtainable."

4 November 2006
"The science is not complete. The models are not perfect. … Most pernicious in this context is the attempt to declare, 'The debate is over.' It isn't over."

9 December 2006
"I also know there is no science of the future: We may decorate reports with graphs and charts, and conjure pages of the most exquisite and arcane equations, but the very best we can offer on climate a hundred years from now is a series of sophisticated and ever-ramifying probabilities that are themselves subject to a myriad of unforeseeable contingencies."

27 January 2007
"Global warming, I grow daily more aware, is a very promiscuous phenomenon. It gets credit for everything. The world wants its politicians to 'do something' about global warming. Most likely, alas, they will."

Ok, we're still waiting for evidence of retreat there.

glacial retreat (1)

Globe and Mail columnist Margaret Wente on climate change:

15 March 2005
"the science behind global warming isn't bulletproof after all. ... Some scientists say they've been urged to suppress their data for the good of the cause. Meantime, the climate skeptics - who include leading figures from Harvard and MIT, as well as dozens of Canadian scientists - are all but ignored in the mainstream media."

7 July 2005
"Global warming may or may not threaten our way of life a hundred years from now; no one really knows."

16 August 2005
"The consensus is a myth. Hundreds of scientists around the world think the jury is still out on many fundamental issues relating to climate change. Hundreds of peer-reviewed papers in scientific journals have questioned the link between human activity and global warming."

8 December 2005
"Most news stories make at least a token effort to include a view or two from the other side. Not environment stories. That's because a lot of people who cover the environment don't believe there is another side. Who's right? How should I know? What I do know is, the media cherry-pick the climate news to fit their prophesies of doom, and never mind the contradictions."

12 September 2006
"Last week a clear-headed woman got up and said in public what no politician, not even Stephen Harper, is brave enough to say. Her message: We should stop pretending that we can prevent climate change. No matter what we do, global warming is inevitable."

27 January 2007
"If you're an average, concerned citizen, no one will blame you for being confused
or angry. The global-warming debate has become so shrill, so political and so polarized that it's impossible for even a reasonably well-informed person to figure out who or what to believe. Only one thing is for sure: Science isn't all that is driving this debate. Politics, ideology and scaremongering are too. Because I'm skeptical by nature, I've always discounted the environmental catastrophists. Their message is religious, not rational. But I've also spoken to enough brainy scientists to conclude that human activity is affecting the climate and that global warming is for real."

patriotically correct (3)

Just to clear the decks. Last in a series, I swear.

Consider Rick Mercer and Christie Blatchford.

Every ad for the Rick Mercer Report [sic] goes something like this: "Hey! This week, I'm with the RCMP/ Coast Guard / Army / OPP / Navy, and I'll be driving a tank / jumping out of a plane / running an obstacle course / attacked by a police dog ." And each week, when there, he'll crack a joke or two about underfunding, appear silly in a uniform, get nervous and dirty, and shake his amused host's hand vigourously. It's what you would expect TV comedy to be like in the old Soviet Union.

But for real fawning, non-investigative journalism, you need to read Christie Blatchford's posts from Afghanistan; she, like Mercer, was there over the Christmas holidays. If she wasn't creating page 1 news by suggesting that 1 Canadian soldier may have acted cowardly -- and only 1, once -- a few months back ( "Did he abandon his troops?" ), she was critiquing Canadian children's letters to soldiers, noting that one that referred repeatedly to peace made her want to puke ( Dear Soldier: Letters to Afghanistan ). Her au revoir to the troops was called My Most Meaningful Christmas, because it was "the one which was centred on noble ideals, such as sacrifice and honour and duty, and the people who are trying to live them." She ends that report by talking about her "affection for well-placed tattoos and the occasional scar, preferably earned in a bar fight." Ick. Forget Edward R Murrow; Helen Gurley Brown is rolling over in her grave. Extra! Canucks Capture Kandahar Cougar!

Why do I get so exercised about patriotic correctness? Two reasons.
-It is so unhelpful. We don't learn anything about anything. The CBC and the Globe and Mail, perhaps the two most important media outlets in Canada, can put two of their top people in a war zone where Canadians are fighting and we learn ... nothing. And we don't really expect to. If we expected Blatchford or Mercer to actually report on the war, they wouldn't maintain the access the Forces gives them.
-It is so easy. There is no upside to being anything but patriotically correct. It's a message, it's a tone that gets you readers/listeners, gets you access, gets you props. (And to those who say, "Yeah, but at least they went" -- I'm sorry, lots of people would go. There are real journalists who would go. Heck, Jack Layton would probably go.)

....But [he pulls back] don't mind me, I'm still working through this. I'm still trying to figure out what I think about the way Canadians have treated their military and its history in recent decades. Why do we like our history military and our military history?

patriotically correct (2)

On the eve of Remembrance Day 2006, Dominion Institute Executive Director Rudyard Griffiths in the Globe and Mail repeated a call he's been making of late, that when the last First World War veteran resident in Canada dies, he be given a state funeral. (Note "resident." Earlier, when the Globe discovered that 1 of the 3 of the survivors now resides in the U.S., Griffiths was called back. After re-examining the tapes, he overturned the call made on the field, deciding that only a resident should receive a state funeral.) "I say, [I say??] let us for once cast off the usual Canadian timidity and understatement when it comes to celebrating our past."

What could the Canadian government say? To oppose such a suggestion would be to oppose honouring our veterans, and what's the upside of that? They loved the idea. Still, it might have been nice to ask the 3 surviving veterans first. They've now said they don't want such a funeral. Nonetheless, the Canadian government has announced its offer stands.

But that's not enough for some people. In a letter to the Globe, James S. Scott of Toronto writes,

Would someone please explain to those objecting to a state funeral for the last First World War veteran, including, apparently, even the last three survivors and their families, that this occasion is designed to celebrate and memorialize the contributions of all 600,000 Canadians who served in that most horrific of modern military slaughters? ... It seems that, in this most materialistic and literal-minded of ages, we have utterly lost the sense of the symbolic that such a national memorializing at once embodies and expresses.

Now that is chutzpah. Ninety years ago, you gave Canada your living body. Now, you owe us your corpse.

When I read that letter, I didn't assume it captured the national mood: people who write letters to the editor (like bloggers) are well-known to be cranks. But I expected someone to write an outraged letter in response. None appeared. That bothers me. Either no Canadian wants to battle patriotic correctness, doesn't want to be seen as opposing any and all forms of veneration of veterans (what's the upside?) ... or that letter really does represent the national mood.

patriotically correct (1)

Did you catch Paul Manson's opinion piece in the Globe and Mail last week? Manson is the former chief of the defence staff, and wrote in "A Poor Display of Canada's Military History" about the Canadian War Museum's interpretation of Allied bombing raids on Germany. The CWM text reads,

The value and morality of the strategic bombing offensive against Germany remains contested. Bomber Command's aim was to crush civilian morale and force Germany to surrender by destroying its cities and industrial installations. Although Bomber Command and the American attacks left 600,000 Germans dead and more than five million homeless, the raids resulted in only a small reduction in German war production until late in the war.

The problem, of course, is if the raids didn't much help the Allied cause. Bombing cities is difficult enough to justify without the suggestion that doing so didn't contribute meaningfully to victory. The fact that Germany had bombed Britain cities can suddenly seem less a strategic precedent than grounds for revenge.

According to Manson, there has been "a firestorm of criticism across Canada", The Legion magazine has called for a boycott of the museum and withholding of donations, and the museum's "public image has been hurt by the bomber panel episode."

In a web-exclusive rejoinder, Randall Hansen argues that "Our War Museum got the bombing of Nazi Germany just right." I'll leave Manson v. Hansen to argue it out. My interest at the moment lies elsewhere. Consider what Manson opposes:
Not the Canadian War Museum's existence.
Not its mandate or its overall vision.
Not an exhibit.
Not even an entire panel.
Just a sentence on a panel, and not even the sentence's veracity. Manson states, "museum official claim every word is historically accurate. This may be true, but it is not a logical defence. The problem is not what is included, but rather what is missing."

To sum up, the Globe and Mail published an opinion piece above the fold on its principal commentary page about concerns that a single line of text at the Canadian War Museum didn't tell the entire story.

As director of a Public History program, I guess I should feel chuffed (as in pleased. I've just checked the OED and find it means both pleased and displeased; I'm chuffed). Canadian history is being discussed, interpreted, debated. But what gets me is how Manson seeks to quash debate. He says that the Museum is ignoring the alternative point of view "in favour of a position that smacks of political correctness at best, or historical revisionism at worst."

This would be ridiculous if it wasn't so dangerous. In Canada, military history is the most politically-correct history there is. In what other area do historians face censure if they offer an oppositional or even unconventional interpretation of the past, one that in any way calls into question the motives, methods, or qualities of the people they're writing about? Think of the controversy over Billy Bishop. Think of The Valour and the Horror, to which the present "firestorm" -- considering Dresden, Mr. Manson, a rather unfortunate choice of terms -- is a postscript. It's to the credit of so many military historians that they maintain their integrity knowing full well the trouble it can cause them to do so.

In Canada, patriotic correctness is much more prevalent than political correctness ever dreamed of being.

take your student to work day

Students undergrad & grad occasionally visit my office, look around, and say, "I wanna be a professor like you" (one can see them mentally pushing me down an elevator shaft and measuring for drapes). And who can blame them? They see me looking relaxed and somewhat slovenly, they assume I work 24/7 -- 24 hours per week, 7 months per year -- and they know I make several hundred thousand dollars per year. My sense is that because of professors' and students' daily proximity to one another, both think that the professors' worklife is pretty transparent. But my sense is that students don't really understand what our jobs are really like -- just as professors don't fully grasp that their students are taking other courses, are tired, and aren't obsessed with the same things they are. But that's another post.

So. Announcing "Take Your Student to Work Day." If you're a graduate or undergraduate history student planning a career in academics, contact me.

they like us, they really like us

Yesterday at the annual meeting of the American Historical Association, bloggers from my own University of Western Ontario History department won two of the six Cliopatria Awards.

William J Turkel won best new blog for Digital History Hacks and John Jordan's "For a Canadian Wikipedia" won best post. Kudos, John and Bill, kudos!

public history blogs

One of the things I did over the holidays was revisit the blogs of students in the Public History class I teach. Two hundred posts later, I'm more than ever happy with the exercise, excited by the medium (genre?), and impressed with the students themselves. Ten things and posts not to be missed, in no particular order:

*Carling's blogs, rich in quantity and quality. Her "History and Mapping" is just one of many of her worthwhile musings on history and technology. I especially liked "Being Reflective," too, for its discussion of the Museum London exhibit, exhibit design, reflectiveness. Epitomic blogging. We are Marshall.

*Finding things to think about in the oddest places, like the dark side of Thanksgiving turkey.

*Jeremy's call for intentionality, in "A Challenge for Public History."

*Bryan's call for a Canadian Council on Public History.

*Interesting discussions on the pros and mostly cons of "plaquing". A good example is Lauren's "Wolfe, in all his glory."

*Posts that inform practice, such as "Oral History Top Ten."

*"Top 10 Things I Learned in One Term of Public History." (What can I say, I like lists.)

*Kevin's lil essays, and their tone. A good introduction is "I wanna be connected."

*Posts that travel. Posts that show the inner workings of a mind. Posts that are fun.

*The sound of people thinking out loud. As an example, "What's in a Name?"

applying to grad school (3)

Undergrads often ask which is most important in their grad school applications: their letters of reference, statement of purpose, or transcripts. The answer is all three: your application will be picked over by a committee whose individual members may well rate the significance of each of these differently.

Some undergrads, by second or third year, have convinced themselves that university grades don't matter in life. That may be largely true. But the one place where university grades are important is ... universities. If you're planning to apply to grad school or medical school or law school or whatever, your university marks will be important. I have seen many grad student applicants explain that their low first and second (and sometimes third) year marks are unrepresentative, that they saw the light on the road to Damascus sometime in third year, and therefore their higher upper year marks better demonstrate their potential. Maybe. This may well convince members of the grad committee to accept you ... or they may ask you to do a make-up year or take some make-up courses, to confirm that the good student is the real you. Better to do well in courses the first time.

applying to grad school (2)

Ten ways to get good, helpful reference letters for your grad school application:

10. Be a good student. Get good marks. Write good essays. Show up for class. Speak up in class.

9. Don't ask your priest, Member of Parliament, orT.A. for a letter.

8. Ask professors in the field to which you're applying. (Weigh carefully whether to seek a letter of reference from an Adjunct Professor, for two reasons. One, it's unlikely to be part of their job, so they're doing it strictly because of their generosity and sense of professionalism. Second, though they may know you best, their opinion may not be as highly regarded as that of a fulltime faculty member to some of the people who will read your application. This is unfair, but it's still something you should consider.)

7. Ask professors who know your work. Remind them who you are by giving them old essays they marked, by outlining your grades in their course, by a cv. This will also be very useful to them when writing your letters.

6. Ask them if they like your work. Be direct, and ask them to be direct. If they have reservations about you, and about writing you a letter, you need to know about it now.

5. Ask them, at some point in the process, if they would be willing to show you the letter, at the end of the process. Some won't be willing, some will (and those who won't be aren't necessarily saying bad things about you). Whatever. It can't hurt to ask, and it may help you in two ways: by letting you see how others see you, and by letting you see whether your referee writes good letters of reference (some people don't).

4. Ask well in advance. If they agree to write letters for you, give them plenty of notice -- at least a month, if possible -- before the deadlines.

3. Make it as simple as possible for them to write their letters. If a school you're applying to has an online form, don't just give the referees the url -- print out the form, add your contact information yourself, and deliver the form to them. If you're asking them to write 5 more letters, ask in 1 email rather than 5 (if possible), with a table of application addresses, deadlines, etc.

2. Ask them if there is anything else they need, and thank them.

1. And then send an email thank-you immediately after the deadline. If they've forgotten -- which happens! -- this should spur them to write and fax a letter straightaway.

applying to grad school (1)

It's a new year and I'm girding my loins for an onslaught of grad school applications. In my first five years teaching History at Western, I've read about 500 such applications and expect to read another 150 or so in the next couple of months. One hundred and fifty transcripts, 300 letters of reference, maybe 50 writing samples from Ph.D. candidates, and 150 "statements of purpose" -- the applicants' paragraph on why they want to do a graduate degree, and why here, why with us.

The statement of purpose is tough to write -- and read. For one thing, students are asked to write only 200 words, hardly enough to warm up (the 100th word of this blog post came earlier in this sentence). But a bigger problem is that these mini-essays become too personality-centred, reading as a natural extension, maybe, of the essay the student wrote for undergraduate entrance to university. Here's how author Gerald Graff (with Andrew Hoberek) puts it in a chapter of his book Clueless in Academe called "The Application Guessing Game", and then offers a solution:

Here is a typical statement, made up by us but instantly recognizable, we bet, by experienced application readers: "Ever since age three I've been passionately in love with the sensuous sound of words. So when Mother Goose was read to me in my crib, I somehow knew I was destined for a lifelong love affair with literature." ... It is not that love of literature is no longer considered a good thing, but that in a graduate application this love is taken for granted and therefore does not score any points: love of one's subject is a necessary qualification for graduate study, but it is not sufficient to get you in. ...In Ph.D. application workshops we developed for MAPH [Master of Arts Program in the Humanities] students, we suggested that the point they needed to get across was not that they loved their subject, but that they are ready to join an intellectual conversation about what they love. They need to translate their passion for their subject into an indication that they know how to discuss it publicly with other knowledgeable people, rather than simply enhancing their private enjoyment of art, philosophy, or classsics. This means showing that they have some plausible picture of the academic field or subfield they envision themselves joining.

Good advice. I'd recommend this chapter to anyone about to apply for grad school. If you want to borrow it, just ask.

an post

While in Halifax this weekend, after giving a talk at Dalhousie U, I snuck out to see a movie. Just before the trailers, there was an onscreen advertisement for renting the screen space itself. It read,

Do you want to advertise your business to a intelligent audience?

Sigh. There oughta be something like a "Strunk scale", measuring the severity of a writing error, probably based on the speed of the reader's deceleration. If the reader smirks at the dangling modifier out his rear-view mirror, that's a 10. If the reader has to shift down, realizes what the author meant, and moves on, that's a 50. If the reader comes to a full stop, either in bewilderment or to write that down to share with his sister the teacher, that's a 100. "A intelligent audience" is at least in the 80s. A writer's goal is to let the reader open it up. Or if not, to purposely set down pylons that regulate speed. (I swear, I'll close this analogy now.)

It amazes me how many people don't think the little things in writing make a big difference. In preparing my pre-circulating paper for my Halifax talk, I debated how to write the following. My paper was on the 1825 Miramichi Fire, the largest (?) forest fire in Canadian history, and I was writing about the only source of the day that said it wasn't a big deal, a letter from Thomas Baillie, New Brunswick's Commissioner of Crown Lands, to the Colonial Office in London. I was also trying to get across my reaction to that source: here am I, writing on the great fire, only to have it pooh-poohed by the person responsible for New Brunswick forests, just three weeks after the event. I thought my reaction was strongest if underplayed, so I wrote this:

"The great body of Pine remains yet untouched ...." He ends the letter, "The fire has appeared in different parts of the Province, but the injury done to the Timber is so trifling that I will not trouble your Lordship with a further detail." Trifling.

or

"The great body of Pine remains yet untouched ...." He ends the letter, "The fire has appeared in different parts of the Province, but the injury done to the Timber is so trifling that I will not trouble your Lordship with a further detail."

Trifling.

I moved "trifling" back and forth 10 or 20 times. If it was its own paragraph, the point seemed overmade, the subtlety lost. But if it closed the previous paragraph, I was worried that it disappeared into the quote, that it would be lost. All this for a word that, in this incarnation, might be read by 20 people.

But how can we avoid it? When can we stop caring about how we write, & if so, how would we start up again? In Walter Benjamin at the Dairy Queen, Larry McMurty writes, "For a novelist to take the work out of work is profoundly self-defeating: keeping the work in work is all-important."

secret syllabus

A student in my Public History class asked several weeks ago if our course had a "secret syllabus" -- the concept has been running around a few courses in our grad program. It's worth noting that I think the student meant it in terms of "What (or how) are you secretly trying to teach us?" but the original meaning -- at least as I understand it -- is "What books, articles, life, etc. are informing you at the moment, beyond the ones that you've put on the syllabus?"

To answer the latter question: good question. I think we're terribly informed by the sometimes happenstance things we're reading, watching, listening to. (My brother was heavily into John Prine one summer, & I can't help but feel that hearing a chorus of one of his songs repeatedly in the car contributed to me asking my wife to marry me. For aficionados, no, the song wasn't "Quit Hollerin' at Me.")

But to answer the former question: good question. No, I wouldn't like to think I'm hiding the important stuff from students, if for no other reason than that the hard-copy syllabus is likely to have more staying power: if the student turns to any syllabus in the future (for instance, in composing their own), it'll be a real one. I guess my secret is how intrinsic I feel the syllabus to be in setting up a course, the care that goes into imagining, "Ok, they'll read this, & we'll discuss that, and the following week we'll take things down the road a little more." My real syllabus secret is that I get impatient; I want students to read everything at once.

on the road

I'm in Ottawa this week, scaring up interest in possible public history internships and NiCHE, a network of environmental historians. I'm history's Willy Loman. (Hey Arthur Miller, what's with the transparent symbolism of calling your downtrodden protagonist Lo-man? That's as cheap as calling your cannibal character Hannibal. Meet my son, Max Murderer.)

The people I've been meeting tend to be historians, either working as such in the public history field or as policy specialists who have drifted away from historical work but are interested in bringing a historical perspective to their field. What's been most noticeable is that everyone I've met wants to be more broadly involved in history: the public historians want to bridge the public/academic divide, for one thing, and the policy specialists still go to history conferences, still save up potential historical topics to work on in retirement. As a director of a public history program, as someone trying to bring his own work to a more public audience and encourage others to do the same, as someone in Ottawa for the express purpose of networking and promoting more networking, I've found that very encouraging.

post in lieu of a post

I promised myself I would never post about why I'm not posting. Yet here I am. "My name is Alan, and it's been a month since my last post." But there's a valid reason. I haven't had a single. interesting. thought. Or at least no thought that didn't need to be streamed into a column, a class, a grant I've been busy working on, a manuscript review, or an email, or didn't involve distracting my 2-year-old from eating rocks.

It's bad timing for such thoughtlessness. William Osler said that "the effective, moving, vitalizing work of the world is done between the ages of twenty-five and forty" ... and I turn 40 soon. Is this the end for my days of whines & proses? Is this the beginning of a slow decline towards nostalgia, forgetfulness, and, finally, administration?

It's not really as bad as all that. I am being inspired by such posts as Kevin Marshall on the past, or Carling Marshall's comment, at least as quoted by Bryan Andrachuk, that if it's not on the web, it's almost as if it doesn't exist. Now, just to decide how to respond to them.

Stay away from the rocks!