Heartened by History

Ah, the dangers of feeling good about a particular moment in time. Faced with the scenes today in Cairo and the natural high of teaching about eighteenth century political revolutions, I was hard pressed not to feel heartened by the Egyptian revolution.

Today in a class on world history (an impossible class to teach), I discussed the slow development of alternatives to the monarchs of Europe. To make a point, I juxtaposed a image of the Palace of Versailles with an image of Paris in 1700, the point being that Louis XIV had his symbol of power and the people of France had an alternative in Paris. I proposed to the students, that because Murbarak did not have his seat of power outside of Cairo, an alternative community of sorts had to take shape some other way. Radically creative, an alternative community developed on the web. I might be making too much of Facebook's role in this, but it was hard not to be moved when Google's man in Egypt Wael Ghonim became a cult hero when he wept openly during a television interview after the host of the show had him look at photos of those killed during the days of protest in Cairo. Here was a revolutionary who Murbarak had arrested for his audacity to create a virtual space to question Egyptian tyranny.

A few weeks back, I wrote about the dilemma of forging a moral diplomacy. One comment about that post rightly pointed to the fallacy of applying moral tests to a nation, rather than to an individual. That is fair enough--I know my Niebuhr. But as I watch the events in Cairo unfold and reflect on the role (the position) the US must play, I find it difficult to imagine that morality has no place in the discussion. Obama has shown his willingness to declare that we must do some things because they are the right things to do. He used that phrase in his most recent State of the Union. Is there not a position to take on Egypt that is at least more right than others might be? And can we not, as a nation, agree that such things are right for reasons that go beyond our stated policies, interests, and laws?

We are not a moral nation, but we are a nation that has debated the moral consequences of our actions and positions. In short, there is way to be heartened by historical events that appear to reflect what is, and should be, right.

Heartened by History

Ah, the dangers of feeling good about a particular moment in time. Faced with the scenes today in Cairo and the natural high of teaching about eighteenth century political revolutions, I was hard pressed not to feel heartened by the Egyptian revolution.

Today in a class on world history (an impossible class to teach), I discussed the slow development of alternatives to the monarchs of Europe. To make a point, I juxtaposed a image of the Palace of Versailles with an image of Paris in 1700, the point being that Louis XIV had his symbol of power and the people of France had an alternative in Paris. I proposed to the students, that because Murbarak did not have his seat of power outside of Cairo, an alternative community of sorts had to take shape some other way. Radically creative, an alternative community developed on the web. I might be making too much of Facebook's role in this, but it was hard not to be moved when Google's man in Egypt Wael Ghonim became a cult hero when he wept openly during a television interview after the host of the show had him look at photos of those killed during the days of protest in Cairo. Here was a revolutionary who Murbarak had arrested for his audacity to create a virtual space to question Egyptian tyranny.

A few weeks back, I wrote about the dilemma of forging a moral diplomacy. One comment about that post rightly pointed to the fallacy of applying moral tests to a nation, rather than to an individual. That is fair enough--I know my Niebuhr. But as I watch the events in Cairo unfold and reflect on the role (the position) the US must play, I find it difficult to imagine that morality has no place in the discussion. Obama has shown his willingness to declare that we must do some things because they are the right things to do. He used that phrase in his most recent State of the Union. Is there not a position to take on Egypt that is at least more right than others might be? And can we not, as a nation, agree that such things are right for reasons that go beyond our stated policies, interests, and laws?

We are not a moral nation, but we are a nation that has debated the moral consequences of our actions and positions. In short, there is way to be heartened by historical events that appear to reflect what is, and should be, right.

When (or is it how) do numbers matter?

I am a historian and…I think I like numbers. Is that a confession or a contradiction? Lately, I have sought refuge in public opinion polls when trying to write about public morality. Numbers are comforting in this endeavor because the idea of public morality is so conflicted and hazardous. To put it simply, when I am curious how blocks of Americans attempt to make sense of BIG issues such as war, abortion, same-sex unions, spreading democracy, the role of God in the nation's history, etc., I turn to public opinion polls to help ground me in what I think is one kind of reality. However, as social scientists will point out, the polls that I depend on are little more than snapshots of discrete moments and unless I am ready to delve into data collection and regression analysis, I am doing little more than bolstering my own qualitative conclusions. And yet, numbers do matter. Would it not be irresponsible to disregard polls when writing about debates over, say, the Vietnam War or Reagan’s policies toward the Soviet Union?

When my colleague at USIH Mike O’Connor recently noted that 58% of Americans believe that God has granted America a special role in history, what are we to make of that number? It evokes, as Mike suggests, the larger idea of American exceptionalism—that Americans believe that the United States is special among contemporary nations. And yet, when I looked at polls from 2003-2008 regarding perceptions Americans had of their country, I found multiple snapshots that created an interesting composite picture.

For example, Daniel Yankovich pointed out in 2006 essay in Foreign Affairs, that Americans illustrated the self-awareness to acknowledge “that the rest of the world sees the United States in a negative light.” According to poll data that Yankovich collected and analyzed, many Americans understood that the United States was seen as “arrogant” (74 percent), “pampered and spoiled” (73 percent), a “bully” (63 percent), and a “country to be feared” (63 percent). However, this collective view did not undermine American opinion regarding a more abstract meaning of the nation itself, which many Americans continued to see in a positive light as a “free and democratic country” (81 percent), a “country of opportunity for everyone” (80 percent), and country generous to other people (72 percent) and a strong leader (69 percent).[1] Similar findings came through in international polls, such as the 2003 National Identity study from International Social Survey Programme (ISSP): while 40.7% of Americans polled agreed very strongly that the U.S. “is better than most other countries” (which ranked the United States first out of thirty-three countries), only 12.9% of Americans agreed very strong that the United States should follow its own interests, even if this leads to conflicts with other nations. [2]

We find interesting numbers in interesting times: when I looked at polls that dealt with the Iraq War, advancing democracy by war, and the approval rating of George W. Bush, it was all downhill from 2003-2007. During that same period, though, the public opinion of the military as an institution rose. Immediately after 9/11, Bush was wildly popular. As he left office he was dismally unpopular. Such numbers make sense in light of the events they reflect. But do they say something larger?

In other words, when do these numbers tell us something about the structure of public morality? If as Ronald Beiner explains about Kant’s idea of public morality, “our actions reflect our maxims, and our maxims are not reducible to natural impulses but instead are traceable to an ultimate (and inscrutable) ‘first ground,’” do our polls reflect our maxims?[3]

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[1] Daniel Yankelovich, “The Tipping Points,” Foreign Affairs (May/June 2006), accessed at: http://www.foreignaffairs.com/20060501faessay85309/daniel-yankelovich/the-tipping-points.

[2] ISSP 2003, “National Identity,” accessed at: http://www.za.uni-koeln.de/data/en/issp/codebooks/ZA3910_cdb.pdf.

[3] Ronald Beiner, Civil Religion (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 219.

When (or is it how) do numbers matter?

I am a historian and…I think I like numbers. Is that a confession or a contradiction? Lately, I have sought refuge in public opinion polls when trying to write about public morality. Numbers are comforting in this endeavor because the idea of public morality is so conflicted and hazardous. To put it simply, when I am curious how blocks of Americans attempt to make sense of BIG issues such as war, abortion, same-sex unions, spreading democracy, the role of God in the nation's history, etc., I turn to public opinion polls to help ground me in what I think is one kind of reality. However, as social scientists will point out, the polls that I depend on are little more than snapshots of discrete moments and unless I am ready to delve into data collection and regression analysis, I am doing little more than bolstering my own qualitative conclusions. And yet, numbers do matter. Would it not be irresponsible to disregard polls when writing about debates over, say, the Vietnam War or Reagan’s policies toward the Soviet Union?

When my colleague at USIH Mike O’Connor recently noted that 58% of Americans believe that God has granted America a special role in history, what are we to make of that number? It evokes, as Mike suggests, the larger idea of American exceptionalism—that Americans believe that the United States is special among contemporary nations. And yet, when I looked at polls from 2003-2008 regarding perceptions Americans had of their country, I found multiple snapshots that created an interesting composite picture.

For example, Daniel Yankovich pointed out in 2006 essay in Foreign Affairs, that Americans illustrated the self-awareness to acknowledge “that the rest of the world sees the United States in a negative light.” According to poll data that Yankovich collected and analyzed, many Americans understood that the United States was seen as “arrogant” (74 percent), “pampered and spoiled” (73 percent), a “bully” (63 percent), and a “country to be feared” (63 percent). However, this collective view did not undermine American opinion regarding a more abstract meaning of the nation itself, which many Americans continued to see in a positive light as a “free and democratic country” (81 percent), a “country of opportunity for everyone” (80 percent), and country generous to other people (72 percent) and a strong leader (69 percent).[1] Similar findings came through in international polls, such as the 2003 National Identity study from International Social Survey Programme (ISSP): while 40.7% of Americans polled agreed very strongly that the U.S. “is better than most other countries” (which ranked the United States first out of thirty-three countries), only 12.9% of Americans agreed very strong that the United States should follow its own interests, even if this leads to conflicts with other nations. [2]

We find interesting numbers in interesting times: when I looked at polls that dealt with the Iraq War, advancing democracy by war, and the approval rating of George W. Bush, it was all downhill from 2003-2007. During that same period, though, the public opinion of the military as an institution rose. Immediately after 9/11, Bush was wildly popular. As he left office he was dismally unpopular. Such numbers make sense in light of the events they reflect. But do they say something larger?

In other words, when do these numbers tell us something about the structure of public morality? If as Ronald Beiner explains about Kant’s idea of public morality, “our actions reflect our maxims, and our maxims are not reducible to natural impulses but instead are traceable to an ultimate (and inscrutable) ‘first ground,’” do our polls reflect our maxims?[3]

---

[1] Daniel Yankelovich, “The Tipping Points,” Foreign Affairs (May/June 2006), accessed at: http://www.foreignaffairs.com/20060501faessay85309/daniel-yankelovich/the-tipping-points.

[2] ISSP 2003, “National Identity,” accessed at: http://www.za.uni-koeln.de/data/en/issp/codebooks/ZA3910_cdb.pdf.

[3] Ronald Beiner, Civil Religion (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 219.