Putting the Humanity Back in Economics
So Professor Jacob Stoll defends the study of the humanities with the thought that all the great economic thinkers from Aristotle to Locke to Adam Smith to Karl Marx to Lord Keynes and so forth and so on have been primarily "humanists." They thought of economic thinking as a part of thinking about the whole human being and the whole human good. It was a part that couldn't really be separated from the whole. So separating economics from politics and philosophy didn't occur to them to be either desirable or possible. As Professor Stoll explains:
[T]he greatest revolution in economics in the past 50 years involves not only the transformation of the discipline into a more quantitative science but also the separation of the business curriculum from the humanities. Training in economics at the college level no longer forces students to think of people as moral agents shaped by religion, culture, and society, but rather as one-dimensional rational actors blindly pursuing material self-interest. Even behavioral economics, which challenges the rational-actor theory, makes universal claims about human psychology without the deep context of history and culture. (Can there truly be universal or biologically motivated shopping habits or attitudes toward consumerism?)
Now there's something to be said for thinking of human beings, for instructional or experimetnal purposes, as "one-dimensional rational actors blindly pursuing material self-interest," as long as you don't forget that your not thinking about whole, real people. The philosophers Thomas Hobbes and John Locke even said that human beings would be better off if they more consistently understood their relationships with others in terms of consent and contract in the service of self-interest. For them, the doctrine of self-interest rightly understood was, in part, reformist or enlightenment propaganda. It was propaganda that did some good in making the world more prosperous and free, even as had its downsides when it came to moral agency or purposefulness, religion, culture, and philosophy.
But those more "humanistic"—meaning philosophically educated and concerned—economic thinkers of the past were aware of the limits of that kind of explanation, just as they were aware that arguments for so-called "rational choice" are, in part, a kind of liberal (we now say libertarian) propaganda.
What's wrong with economists who only know their technical discipline and no more is they easily forget that limits of what they can explain. And they easily become dogmatists in the thrall of a combination of scientism (or going beyond scientific knowledge in the direction of ideology) and advocacy. They really think that they can explain everything through self-interest or demand or whatever, because they haven't learned enough—or studied widely and deeply enough—to know otherwise.
Professor Stoll is also right that when rational-choice is rejected as an unrealistic abstraction, it tends to be replaced by the new forms of scientism of behavioral economics—ones that go in the other direction of abstracting from the real capacity of reason to manage human affairs.
The problem with the purging of the humanities from the study of business generally is that students never attend to the fact that marketing and management—not to mention economics—are forms of sophistry. The sophist, as Socrates tell us, sells his skills and competencies with the claim that knowledge is for money, power, and individual freedom. He also claims to know more than he really does by claiming that we can know less than we really do.
Contrary to what the sophists say, it's not true at all that we should rest content with the conclusion that money and power are for nothing more than whatever our personal preferences happen to be, with thinking that leads so easily to the conclusion that there's no human standard we share in common higher than personal productivity.
There's nothing wrong with being a sophist, to a point. But the point of higher education is acquiring the civilized and humane knowledge of what that point is. The logic of the market or whatever cannot and should not define whole human lives or enter into every human relationship. The logic of the market shouldn't be limited or guided by mere "values" (even in the sense of "family values") but by virtues, including (but not only) the ones praised by Adam Smith.
The real problem, as I've said before, is the separation of knowledge into the sciences and the humanities—including the social sciences and the humanities—is based on artificial abstractions that we tend to forget are merely artificial abstractions. One point of higher education is to see the limits of so-called academic disciplines, and that means being a lot more than merely "interdisciplinary."
So, for one thing, economists would respect "humanists" more if they truthfully respected the real competence of economists and business leaders. Professors of the humanities have to acknowledge that they share in the task of preparing students to be members of the productive meritocracy that shapes the 21st century global competitive marketplace. After doing so, they can remind our economists that our best thinkers and leaders have always been and will remain more than sophists. And higher education, for us all, is about much more than becoming an efficient sophist, because the world is much more than a marketplace.
The Lumina Foundation lays out steps for increasing access to quality post-secondary education credentials.
- America's post-high school education landscape was not created with the modern student in mind. Today, clear and flexible pathways are necessary to help individuals access education that can help them lead a better life.
- Elizabeth Garlow explains the Lumina Foundation's strategy to create a post-secondary education system that works for all students. This includes credential recognition, affordability, a more competency-based system, and quality assurance.
- Systemic historic factors have contributed to inequality in the education system. Lumina aims to close those gaps in educational attainment.
- In 2019, Lumina Foundation and Big Think teamed up to create the Lumina Prize, a search to find the most innovative and scalable ideas in post-secondary education. You can see the winners of the Lumina Prize here – congratulations to PeerForward and Greater Commons!
French newspapers report that the trial hasn't lived up to expectations.
- The French government initially invested in a rural solar roadway in 2016.
- French newspapers report that the trial hasn't lived up to expectations.
- Solar panel "paved" roadways are proving to be inefficient and too expensive.
During World War II, the U.S. incarcerated over 100,000 Japanese Americans in concentration camps throughout the West.
- Now that the issue of concentration camps in the U.S. has once again reared its head, it can be beneficial to recall the last time such camps were employed in the U.S.
- After Pearl Harbor, the U.S. incarcerated over 100,000 Japanese Americans in camps, ostensibly for national security purposes.
- In truth, the incarceration was primarily motivated by racism. What was life like in the U.S.'s concentration camps?
On February 19, 1942, President Roosevelt issued Executive Order 9066, which authorized and directed military commanders "to prescribe military areas … from which any or all persons may be excluded, and with respect to which, the right of any person to enter, remain in, or leave shall be subject to whatever restrictions the Secretary of War or the appropriate Military Commander may impose in his discretion." Under the authority of this executive order, roughly 112,000 men, women, and children of Japanese descent — nearly two-thirds of which were American citizens — were detained in concentration camps.
How did the camps get their start?
With the benefit of a nearly 80-year perspective, it's clear that the internment of Japanese Americans was racially motivated. In response to Japan's growing military power in the buildup to World War II, President Roosevelt commissioned two reports to determine whether it would be necessary to intern Japanese Americans should conflict break out between Japan and the U.S. Neither's conclusions supported the plan, with one even going so far as to "certify a remarkable, even extraordinary degree of loyalty among this generally suspect ethnic group." But of course, the Pearl Harbor attacks proved to be far more persuasive than these reports.
Pearl Harbor turned simmering resentment against the Japanese to a full boil, putting pressure on the Roosevelt administration to intern Japanese Americans. Lieutenant General John DeWitt, who would become the administrator of the internment program, testified to Congress
"I don't want any of them here. They are a dangerous element. There is no way to determine their loyalty... It makes no difference whether he is an American citizen, he is still a Japanese. American citizenship does not necessarily determine loyalty... But we must worry about the Japanese all the time until he is wiped off the map."
DeWitt's position was backed up by a number of pre-existing anti-immigrant groups based out of the West Coast, such as the Joint Immigration Committee and the Native Sons and Daughters of the Golden West. For many, the war simply served as an excuse to get rid of Japanese Americans. In an interview with the Saturday Evening Post, Austin Anson, the managing secretary of the Salinas Vegetable Grower-Shipper Administration, said:
"We're charged with wanting to get rid of the Japs for selfish reasons. We do. It's a question of whether the White man lives on the Pacific Coast or the brown men. ... If all the Japs were removed tomorrow, we'd never miss them in two weeks because the White farmers can take over and produce everything the Jap grows. And we do not want them back when the war ends, either."
Ironically for Anson, the mass deportation of Japanese Americans under Executive Order 9066 meant there was a significant shortage of agricultural labor. Many Caucasians left to fight the war, so the U.S. signed an agreement with Mexico to permit the immigration of several million Mexicans agricultural workers under the so-called bracero program.
Life in the camps
Hulton Archive/Getty Images
Circa 1943: Aerial view of a Japanese American relocation center in Amache, Colorado, during World War II. Each family was provided with a space 20 by 25 ft. The barracks were set in blocks and each block was provided with a community bath house and mess hall.
For the most part, Japanese Americans remained stoic in the face of their incarceration. The phrase shikata ga nai was frequently invoked — the phrase roughly translates to "it cannot be helped," which, for many, represents the perceived attitude of the Japanese people to withstand suffering that's out of their control.
Initially, most Japanese Americans were sent to temporary assembly centers, typically located at fairgrounds or racetracks. These were hastily constructed barracks, where prisoners were often packed into tight quarters and made to use toilets that were little more than pits in the ground. From here, they were relocated to more permanent camps — replete with barbed wire and armed guards — in remote, isolated places across the seven states of California, Arizona, Colorado, Wyoming, Idaho, Utah, and Arkansas.
Many of these camps, also known as War Relocation Centers, were little better than the temporary assembly centers. One report described the buildings as "tar paper-covered barracks of simple frame construction without plumbing or cooking facilities of any kind." Again, overcrowding was common.
As a result, disease became a major concern, including dysentery, malaria, and tuberculosis. This was problematic due to the chronic shortage of medical professionals and supplies, an issue that was not helped by the War Relocation Authority's decision to cap Japanese American medical professional's pay at $20 a month (about $315 in 2019 dollars), while Caucasian workers had no such restriction. As a comparison, Caucasian nurses earned $150 ($2,361) a month in one camp.
The U.S. government also administered loyalty questionnaires to incarcerated Japanese Americans with the ultimate goal of seeing whether they could be used as soldiers and to segregate "loyal" citizens from "disloyal" ones. The questionnaires often asked whether they would be willing to join the military and if they would completely renounce their loyalty to Japan. Due to fears of being drafted, general confusion, and justified anger at the U.S. government, thousands of Japanese Americans "failed" the loyalty questionnaire and were sent to the concentration camp at Tule Lake. When Roosevelt later signed a bill that would permit Japanese Americans to renounce their citizenship, 98 percent of the 5,589 who did were located at Tule Lake. Some apologists cite this an example of genuine disloyalty towards the U.S., but this argument clearly ignores the gross violation of Japanese Americans' rights. Later, it became clear that many of these renunciations had been made under duress, and nearly all of those who had renounced their citizenship sought to gain it back.
Since many children lived in the camps, they came equipped with schools. Of course, these schools weren't ideal — student-teacher ratios reached as high as 48:1, and supplies were limited. The irony of learning about American history and ideals was not lost on the students, one of whom wrote in an essay --
"They, the first generation [of Japanese immigrants], without the least knowledge of the English language nor the new surroundings, came to this land with the American pioneering spirit of resettling. ...Though undergoing many hardships, they did reach their goal only to be resettled by the order of evacuation under the emergency for our protection and public security."
Potentially the best part of life in the camps — and the best way for determined prisoners to demonstrate their fundamental American-ness — was playing baseball. One camp even featured nearly 100 baseball teams. Former prisoner Herb Kurima recalled the importance of baseball in their lives in an interview with Christian Science Monitor. "I wanted our fathers, who worked so hard, to have a chance to see a ball game," he said. "Over half the camp used to come out to watch. It was the only enjoyment in the camps."
When the camps finally closed in 1945, the lives of the incarcerated Japanese Americans had been totally upended. Some were repatriated to Japan, while others settled in whichever part of the country they had been arbitrarily placed in. Those who wished to return to the West Coast were given $25 and a train ticket, but few had anything to return to. Many had sold their property to predatory buyers prior to being incarcerated, while theft had wiped out whatever else they had left behind. Many, many years later, the 1988 Civil Liberties Act mandated that each surviving victim be paid $20,000, though that seems like a small fine to pay for irrevocably changing the courses of more than 100,000 lives.