Chua and Rubenfeld, The Triple Package

The new book by Amy Chua and Jed Rubenfeld (The Triple Package: How Three Unlikely Traits Explain the Rise and Fall of Cultural Groups in America) is stirring controversy, as it was meant to do. The authors are nothing if not successful marketers.

I don’t agree with critics like Sekuta Mehta who argue that exploring the relationship between cultural traits and prosperity is racist. If a culture is a cluster of norms, preferences, habits, and values, than each culture will be more or less consistent with the culture of capitalism. Consistency with capitalism will confer advantage, and we should understand that.

Chua and Rubenfeld should not be condemned just for arguing that culture matters. But I think they fail in two other ways, and these weaknesses bother me less for ideological reasons than because I don’t like to see senior academics ignoring complexity and rigor in order to publish best-sellers that would not pass even the most ideologically open-minded peer-review process. In other words, I am not offended by the conclusion but by the methods.

First, their empirical argument is deeply problematic. They identify eight prosperous US ethnic groups and, after rejecting other explanations for their economic success, insist that the essential reasons must be three cultural traits (a sense of superiority, a sense of insecurity, and impulse control). This is the kind of method that persuaded physicians, for many centuries, to use leeches to bleed patients. Look at my eight most successful medical cases–people who recovered from mysterious illnesses. What do they have in common? I bled them all. Ergo, leeches work. You don’t have to be a fool to think this way, but the scientific method works much better.

When studying the impact of culture on prosperity, the scientific gold standard (an experiment) may not be possible. But one must at least avoid selection bias to choose large and representative samples, measure each case using independent data, and rigorously consider multiple explanations. In this case, you would look at all US ethnic groups (poor as well as rich) and treat their median income or wealth as a function of many plausible explanations that can be reliably measured. Cultural factors might or might not emerge as significant predictors in a multivariate model. You won’t find out from Chua and Rubenfeld.

The second problem is their very thin moral (or normative) framework. Assume that having a sense of cultural superiority conveys competitive advantage in a market economy–what of that? The authors do raise the point that striving for material success may not be the best way of life, but that is an aside. Surely, each of the grand ideas in their book–a sense of superiority, insecurity, delayed gratification, and wealth itself–is problematic.

More rigorous research than theirs brings into focus other ways in which fitting well with capitalism can be morally troubling. For instance, Annette Lareau finds that middle-class siblings are quarrelsome because they are raised to see each experience as an investment in their own success. If Brother has to wait during Sister’s violin lesson, that is a waste for him, and he acts out. Working-class children are much better at cooperating and more cheerful about it, because they are expected to make their own entertainment together. Sister is a potential playmate for Brother.

This is just one small example of the ways in which fitting well with capitalism can deform the soul. Capitalism may also uplift, liberate, and improve. The moral impact of capitalism is a complex and challenging topic, on which Chua and Rubenfeld have little to offer.

That said, we ought to have this conversation and not treat it as inherently offensive. Mehta, for example, decries as racist the claim that culture affects prosperity and ends with his uncle Vipinmama, “who lived every day of his life in the pursuit of happiness” and was wise enough not to fit with capitalism. But that just underlines the importance of capitalism as a culture with which a person may fit–or not. If you live like Vipinmama, you may be happy, but you will not long be rich. We ought to recognize that fact before we decide what to do about it.

Eight years ago, I proposed that we might think of three axes of debate: whether cultural norms affect success; whether material success is a worthy goal; and whether state action can enhance welfare. All combinations of answers to those three questions are tenable. I think I am with people like Pierre Bourdieu and Annette Lareau who emphasize the economic impact of culture while doubting that it is morally good to be materially successful under capitalism. They want to use the state to change the relationship between culture and wealth, thus falling at the front top of this cube (which I explain more fully here):

 

what it means to serve: three takes

(On the DC-Boston Shuttle) One day in DC, three meetings, three views of “service.”

First, I enjoyed a gathering of leaders who engage at-risk teenagers and young adults in community service as a way to improve their academic success, job skills, and psychological wellbeing. The best of these programs, such as YouthBuild USA, transform lives for the better.

I think that the service component of this kind of program is necessary but not sufficient. It is necessary because the whole rationale and spirit of the organization is colored by the ideal of serving communities (in YouthBuild’s case, by building low-income housing). That gives a moral purpose to the work.

But service is certainly not a sufficient condition of success. These programs also provide caring adults, positive interactions among peers, experience in collaborative decision-making, academic skills, career counseling, personal counseling, and many other benefits. It is possible that a different demanding rationale–not service but rather science, art, or God–might also work. That is no criticism of these service-oriented programs, which create pathways to success. But we should not conclude that by offering service opportunities (alone), we can help at-risk kids succeed. This is my own view, but I sense it’s consistent with the main stream of opinion in the service world today.

Second, I was in the Pentagon–indeed, in the executive suite of the Secretary of the Navy–to witness my dean, Alan Solomont, receive the Navy Award. He got it for his work as US Ambassador to Spain, when he achieved an agreement that allows us to base certain military forces on Spanish soil, dramatically increasingly their value for operations in Europe and Africa. An ambassador negotiating an international agreement serves his country in a very different way from a YouthBuild student constructing a house. Different still are the uniformed officers and NCOs who stood near me in the Pentagon, witnessing the ceremony. But it is all service.

Third, I was with my colleagues at the National Conference on Citizenship, discussing how to use data to assess the “civic health” of American communities. Now the focus broadens to behaviors beyond volunteer service–activities like belonging to associations and attending meetings. And the scale expands from the individual to cities, states, and the nation. But again, it is all part of the same story. At the risk of repeating my formula one time too often, I think the core ideals are deliberation (deciding together what we should do), collaboration (actually doing it, whether for pay or not), and the civic relationships that result. These three components are present in a YouthBuild construction site, a US Navy ship, or pervasively in a community like Minneapolis/St Paul that scores high on measures of “civic health.” They benefit the individuals and the common good.

Tufts’ new 1+4 program

Yesterday, the Jonathan M. Tisch College of Citizenship and Public Service at Tufts (where I work) held a Symposium on Service and Leadership with retired General Stanley McChrystal, who commanded US forces in Afghanistan and who turns out to be gifted and engaging speaker. At the Symposium, “Tufts 1+4” was announced. This will be a program to encourage incoming undergraduates to spend a year doing full-time service (domestic or international) before they come to campus.

Some students already do this. We heard inspiring stories from two current Tufts undergrads who had served, respectively, in the South Bronx and in Ecuador before their first years here. They both testified that their work in disadvantaged communities made them hungry to learn about social issues in college. The idea is to make a service “bridge year” much more common and more equitable. Tufts will address financial need. Making the program selective and prestigious should remove any stigma that might accompany a decision to delay college.

For General McChrystal and the Aspen Institute’s Franklin Project (which the General chairs), Tufts 1+4 is an important demonstration project. They are trying to make serious, voluntary national service an expected right of passage. They don’t think that the federal government will pay for all the service slots any time soon, so they want to construct an array of service opportunities through federal and state programs, colleges, and nonprofits. I have long argued for that kind of bottom-up, relatively incremental approach because I think quality is essential. If the government suddenly created millions of service positions, they would be filled by eager young adults (there is plenty of demand), but the quality of the experience would be mixed. Our responsibility is to do Tufts 1+4 well so that it can spread.

For Tufts, another motivation is to recruit a diverse group of incoming undergraduates who are more seasoned–and better prepared to consider social issues in the classroom–thanks to their intense service experiences. In that sense, Tufts 1+4 is an educational reform and an effort to strengthen the campus intellectual climate.

I am especially pleased that the Franklin Project is putting its emphasis on service as a learning opportunity for the people who serve. I have been involved in discussions of “service” since my undergraduate days. In fact, when I was in student government, we launched a program that paid students for summer service if they reported to their local alumni clubs. I have always argued that the service must address real problems or it won’t be valuable for those who serve, yet the main rationale is to enhance the civic skills, job and life skills, and social ethics of those who serve. We shouldn’t see service programs as a way to plant trees or tutor children, but as a powerful form of civic education. The main beneficiaries are those who enroll, which is why the experiences must be well designed and supported. Gen. McChrystal made the same argument rather explicitly yesterday at Tufts.

the president and the humanities

At a General Electric plant in Milwaukee last month, President Obama seemed to disparage one of the disciplines of the humanities:

“I promise you, folks can make a lot more potentially with skilled manufacturing or the trades than they might with an art history degree,” the president said. “Now, nothing wrong with an art history degree. I love art history. So I don’t want to get a bunch of emails from everybody. I’m just saying, you can make a really good living and have a great career without getting a four-year college education, as long as you get the skills and the training that you need.”

After receiving a critical email from University of Texas art historian Ann Collins Johns, the president replied to her with a hand-written apology, shown below. It’s a polite and disarming note. I suspect the president immediately regretted his comment about art history and was looking for a chance to address it.

Especially given his note, I do not want to add criticism of the president, personally. However, the administration’s educational policy does favor the applied sciences and engineering over the humanities. Moreover, in his note, the president reinforces the idea that the humanities are basically about appreciating the higher things of life; they are aesthetic disciplines. He writes, “As it so happens, art history was one of my favorite subjects in high school, and it has helped me take in a great deal of joy in my life that I might otherwise have missed.”

One sees this equation of the humanities with beauty all the time. Just last week, in the Atlantic, Olga Khazan cited Robert Frost, William Carlos Williams, and Paul Cézanne as examples of geniuses in “the humanities.” Very few people seem to understand that the humanities are scholarly disciplines aimed at understanding a wide range of human phenomena. They are not about making or appreciating beauty. (See my post on “what are the humanities?”)

I do believe that you can often enjoy a work of art much more if you understand it as the solution to problems of its own time. This is something that art historians can teach you. I have made this argument in relation to Memling and to the city of Venice, among other examples on this blog. Thus the president probably did come to enjoy art more when he studied art history. However, enjoyment is not the purpose of the discipline; we do not call it “art appreciation.” As long as people believe that the humanities are about enhancing pleasure, they will not consider them an important investment in tough economic times.

Bowling Alone after (almost) 20 years

Robert Putnam published “Bowling Alone” in the Journal of Democracy, vol. 6, no. 1, January 1995. By September 25 of the same year, he was in People Magazine (smoking a pipe, standing alone in bowling shoes on a New Hampshire bowling alley). “We’ve become disconnected,” he said in the article, and “I think it’s at the root of all other problems.”

“Bowling Alone” has altered my own trajectory. It led to the National Commission on Civic Renewal, of which I was deputy director. The Commission called for a research center on youth engagement–noting the evidence, cited in Putnam’s original article, that the decline in social connectedness had been generational. That center is CIRCLE; I still direct it nearly 20 years later.

The original article quickly provoked a debate, with empirical and theoretical contributions. At the time, I thought one of the strongest counterarguments was in Jean Cohen’s 1999 chapter “American Civil Society Talk.” I am teaching Cohen this week, along with Putnam’s “Community-Based Social Capital and Educational Performance” (2001), which I take to be a more advanced version of the “Bowling Alone” argument.

In essence, Putnam argued that membership generated trust and reciprocity, which had  good outcomes for individuals and societies. A bowling league was a good example of voluntary membership. Shrinking bowling leagues would be a sign of decline if that exemplified a broader trend.

Drawing on Habermas, Gramsci, and various liberal thinkers, Cohen argued that laws or norms of free speech, free association, and deliberation yield certain kinds of associations that generate politically relevant discourse. That discourse produces better and more legitimate government. Bowling leagues are poor examples of civil society for Cohen because they do not involve political discourse. Unions, social movements, and advocacy groups would be better examples.

Cohen objects to the whole “decline” narrative. For Putnam, Baby Boomers were responsible for decline because their levels of associational membership fell. For Cohen, they were impressive because “they created the first environmental movement since the turn of the century, public health movements, grassroots activism and community organizing, the most important feminist movement since the pre-World War II period, the civil rights movement, and innumerable transnational nongovernmental organizations and civic movements–all of which have led to unprecedented advances in rights and social justice.” She ends: “we must drop the rhetoric of civic and moral decline.”

The debate is partly about method. Putnam finds strong empirical links between composites of membership, trust, turnout, following the news, etc. He tweaks his empirical model until it provides the best prediction of desirable social outcomes. He calls the composite measure “social capital” and offers theoretical reasons for its benefits.

Cohen, however, wants to disaggregate the various components that Putnam combines because she sees some as good and others as bad, from the perspective of left-liberal political theory. She is not interested whether social trust correlates with membership, or whether membership predicts trust in government. She sees membership in discursive associations as desirable, but trust in government as problematic. She also claims that Putnam omits important measures from his explanatory model. He should consider variation in legal rights, for example. (This part of her critique seems a bit unfair considering the methodology of Making Democracy Work.)

I think Cohen scores some valid points, but nearly 20 years later, I find myself increasingly sympathetic to Putnam. The reason is our political situation now. Cohen recognizes that the model of a liberal public sphere is far from perfect, but her argument depends on its potential. We must have reason to hope that free speech and democracy will allow people to form associations that generate reasonable public discourse and hold the government and market to account. Her positive portrayal of the Boomers rests on their success. They achieved “unprecedented advances in rights and social justice.”

But those advances have thoroughly stalled since 1999. We still have the legal framework that permits free association and free speech, but people are not using it very effectively. There are many reasons for that, but I think one is a declining capacity to associate. It now looks  as if the great social upheavals of 1955-1975 rested on a general culture of joining associations and norms of social solidarity. Those have eroded–probably not because of the social movements of the 1960s, but for other reasons, including economic change. The result is a civil society that has great difficulty generating the kinds of political movements that Cohen rightly values. Putnam looks prescient in noting the decline in the groundwork of effective political action.