O, Brave New World
Ross Douthat considers two different views of child-rearing.
I'm in almost complete sympathy with Douthat's view, but what Douthat doesn't address, or addresses only obliquely at the end of his post, is that Hirschman's anti-child-rearing piece is right about the inadequacy of the language of choice to discussions of careers, child-rearing, and at-home parenting. Hirschman makes the point that women's, and men's, choices about these issues are not merely personal, and I agree. But where Hirschman would emphasize the way such choices influence all women's lives, I would emphasize the way those choices affect children's lives. We seem to have abandoned the language of sacrifice. But doesn't every important choice involve an important sacrifice? One of Hirschman's problems is that she doesn't appear to believe that those who choose careers over child-rearing have sacrificed anything very significant.
I'm too busy doing the low-value work of darning socks and dusting bookshelves to comment more fully, but let me ask you to compare this observation of Hirschman's:
"The good life for humans includes the classical standard of using one’s capacities for speech and reason in a prudent way, the liberal requirement of having enough autonomy to direct one’s own life, and the utilitarian test of doing more good than harm in the world. Measured against these time-tested standards, the expensively educated upper-class moms will be leading lesser lives..."
. . . with this observation, from a woman whose society offered far fewer opportunities for women to live by the classical, liberal, or utilitarian standards that Hirschman extols:
"Certainly those determining acts of her life were not ideally beautiful. They were the mixed result of young and noble impulse struggling amidst the conditions of an imperfect social state, in which great feelings will often take the aspect of error, and great faith the aspect of illusion. For there is no creature whose inward being is so strong that it is not greatly determined by what lies outside it. A new Theresa will hardly have the opportunity of reforming a conventual life, any more than a new Antigone will spend her heroic piety in daring all for the sake of a brother’s burial: the medium in which their ardent deeds took shape is forever gone. But we insignificant people with our daily words and acts are preparing the lives of many Dorotheas, some of which may present a far sadder sacrifice than that of the Dorothea whose story we know.
Her finely touched spirit had still its fine issues, though they were not widely visible. Her full nature, like that river of which Cyrus broke the strength, spent itself in channels which had no great name on the earth. But the effect of her being on those around her was incalculably diffusive: for the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs."
George Eliot knew that opportunities for the women of her era were, in large part, determined by what lay outside their control. She never meekly adopted the "gendered ideology" that Hirschman deplores. Neither, however, did she allow herself to give an account of women's lives that was, like Hirschman's, so mean and stunted, so coldly focused on "lesser lives" and incomplete "human flourishing" and "gendered ideologies," as if being a woman in any society doesn't begin with being a human being.
I just finished reading In Cold Blood, from which I've taken the following examples. On the last day of her life, Nancy Clutter rearranged her busy teenage girl's schedule so that she could show a little neighbor girl how to bake a cherry pie. She was buried in her red velvet dress, which she had made herself. Lowell Lee Andrews, an honor student in biology at the University of Kansas, finished reading the last few pages of The Brothers Karamazov before brutally slaughtering his father, mother, and sister in their Kansas home.
I don't know that Hirschman's ideas of full human flourishing are the ones that I'd use to judge which of those teenagers was leading a "lesser life" up to the time of their deaths.
I'm in almost complete sympathy with Douthat's view, but what Douthat doesn't address, or addresses only obliquely at the end of his post, is that Hirschman's anti-child-rearing piece is right about the inadequacy of the language of choice to discussions of careers, child-rearing, and at-home parenting. Hirschman makes the point that women's, and men's, choices about these issues are not merely personal, and I agree. But where Hirschman would emphasize the way such choices influence all women's lives, I would emphasize the way those choices affect children's lives. We seem to have abandoned the language of sacrifice. But doesn't every important choice involve an important sacrifice? One of Hirschman's problems is that she doesn't appear to believe that those who choose careers over child-rearing have sacrificed anything very significant.
I'm too busy doing the low-value work of darning socks and dusting bookshelves to comment more fully, but let me ask you to compare this observation of Hirschman's:
"The good life for humans includes the classical standard of using one’s capacities for speech and reason in a prudent way, the liberal requirement of having enough autonomy to direct one’s own life, and the utilitarian test of doing more good than harm in the world. Measured against these time-tested standards, the expensively educated upper-class moms will be leading lesser lives..."
. . . with this observation, from a woman whose society offered far fewer opportunities for women to live by the classical, liberal, or utilitarian standards that Hirschman extols:
"Certainly those determining acts of her life were not ideally beautiful. They were the mixed result of young and noble impulse struggling amidst the conditions of an imperfect social state, in which great feelings will often take the aspect of error, and great faith the aspect of illusion. For there is no creature whose inward being is so strong that it is not greatly determined by what lies outside it. A new Theresa will hardly have the opportunity of reforming a conventual life, any more than a new Antigone will spend her heroic piety in daring all for the sake of a brother’s burial: the medium in which their ardent deeds took shape is forever gone. But we insignificant people with our daily words and acts are preparing the lives of many Dorotheas, some of which may present a far sadder sacrifice than that of the Dorothea whose story we know.
Her finely touched spirit had still its fine issues, though they were not widely visible. Her full nature, like that river of which Cyrus broke the strength, spent itself in channels which had no great name on the earth. But the effect of her being on those around her was incalculably diffusive: for the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs."
George Eliot knew that opportunities for the women of her era were, in large part, determined by what lay outside their control. She never meekly adopted the "gendered ideology" that Hirschman deplores. Neither, however, did she allow herself to give an account of women's lives that was, like Hirschman's, so mean and stunted, so coldly focused on "lesser lives" and incomplete "human flourishing" and "gendered ideologies," as if being a woman in any society doesn't begin with being a human being.
I just finished reading In Cold Blood, from which I've taken the following examples. On the last day of her life, Nancy Clutter rearranged her busy teenage girl's schedule so that she could show a little neighbor girl how to bake a cherry pie. She was buried in her red velvet dress, which she had made herself. Lowell Lee Andrews, an honor student in biology at the University of Kansas, finished reading the last few pages of The Brothers Karamazov before brutally slaughtering his father, mother, and sister in their Kansas home.
I don't know that Hirschman's ideas of full human flourishing are the ones that I'd use to judge which of those teenagers was leading a "lesser life" up to the time of their deaths.
posted by Kate Marie | 9:55 PM | Permalink
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14 comments
14 Comments:
'm too busy doing the low-value work of darning socks ...
You darn socks?!
LOL, CIV!
Maybe I should leave you in suspense about the answer ...
Hirschman suggests that raising kids may constitute a "lesser life," and for the sake of argument, I'm willing to entertain the idea that for some women, it may be. After all, not every woman makes a good mom.
What's stranger to me, though, is Hirschman's suggestion that any work makes a woman's life more full. According to a quick Google search, Hirschman has worked as a lawyer, a professor, and an author. No doubt she's found all of those vocations quite fulfilling. But what about the career receptionist? The bookkeeper at a futon store? A cubicle jockey at International Amalgamated Incorporated whose kids don't understand what she does, and who some days doesn't understand it herself? When Hirschman says "women," she really means "well educated, ambitious women." Most of us, men and women alike, don't do anything all that worthwhile in the working world.
I'm sure it's a great ego boost to be a professor and pundit, but come on: many jobs--most jobs--simply aren't a lot of fun, and very few men or women die wishing they'd spent a bit more time at the office.
And now you're knocking receptionists? I'll have you know I was the best damn receptionist that law firm ever had! :)
Oh, and just so no one gets the wrong idea, I met my husband in graduate school, not when I worked as a receptionist. Which sort of makes me the kind of woman Hirschman most despises, I suppose.
Oh, I'm definitely not ragging on receptionists: I spent four long years as a full-time temp, and I've answered many a ringing phone. In fact, I did admin work from the time I was 15 until I was nearly 28. I find it very useful and instructive to have held many dull and useless jobs, but that's why I'm so reluctant to cheer for work for its own sake. Hirschman has one of the most rarified jobs in the world--three of them, in fact. Can she really imagine what the average working woman is in for?
And did you do your sock darning between receptioning for the lawyers?
Yes, CIV, I did my sock darning and all my knitting while sitting at the reception desk. :)
Jeff, you're right about Hirschman, of course. I would add, though, that even lawyers, professors, and pundits may experience their work as unfulfilling or less than a full human flourishing. That's why I prefer a completely different metric for judging fulfillment, or rather I think the classical, liberal, and utilitarian standards Hirschman uses aren't bad, but it's quite a leap to suggest, as she does, that *any* paid work better fits those standards than the work of child-rearing. But that's your point.
Quite true! My point was only that some fields--elite fields in particular--are more likely to offer fulfillment than others. It's fun to imagine ultra-powerful women rampaging through the business world: She's a captain of industry! She's managing a billion-dollar account! She's negotiating an innovative deal with clients on four continents! She's rarely processing corporate tax-credit claims in a windowless office while pondering the very limited significance of it all--even though in reality that's what she's more likely to be doing.
For what it's worth, I spent four soul-crushing summers processing corporate tax-credit claims in a mostly windowless office. What I learned from it was that I envied my then-girlfriend. She was a nanny.
"What I learned from it was that I envied my then-girlfriend. She was a nanny."
-- LOL, Jeff. And I'm glad you've escaped the soul-crushing, windowless, processing tax credits existence.
Here's an embarrassing true confession. When I think back on the different jobs I've had, I actually enjoyed being a receptionist more than being a teacher. I didn't have to take my work home with me; it certainly didn't require much of me; I spent lunch and "slow times" reading good books, instead of grading papers, and I wasn't paid *that* much less than I was as a teacher. I guess I would have rated the teaching job as more fulfilling and "valuable" work, but a lot of the time it felt kind of futile to me, but maybe that's the destiny of anyone who has to try to teach teenagers to write.
I probably shouldn't have confessed that, but there it is.
No, I can understand that. For six months in 1995, I was the second assistant receptionist at a government office. I spent most of each day reading The Economist or skimming some silly Maya Angelou book as the latest one made the rounds. (I was the only admin person there who was either male or white.) It was ridiculously easy work, but the problem was that it wasn't even potentially rewarding. Teaching kids may often be discouraging, but there's always the potential, I would imagine, that you at least may have a fulfilling day.
And yeah, I will never forget receiving that phone call at the office informing me that my friends were hanging out at my girlfriend's place, where they were teaching a small child the concept of "projectile motion" (i.e., throwing stuff). Then they were going out to enjoy a lovely summer afternoon in the park. My in-basket never looked more dreary or bottomless than it did that day.
But I digress.
I, for one, am grateful for those who teach teenagers to write. Would that more people who write as well as KM go into teaching. Perhaps somewhere out there some young adult knows the difference between "your" and "you're" and can write complete sentences because of KM. Thank you.
Jeff, I briefly had a mind numbing government job that slowly sucked all the life out of everyone around me. I was not as hearty as you and could not stand to merely pretend to work while reading countless boring trade rags. It drove me crazy and I ended up changing careers.
CIV, thanks for the kind words. The thing is, though, that I don't know that my teaching made any difference in terms of students' writing. More and more I think that good writing is something that's *very* hard to teach, especially to students who seldom read. I'm willing to entertain the idea that some of my students may have been influenced by the literature component of my classes.
Glad you're out of the soul-sucking career, CIV. Are you glad you made the change?
I liked very much what I studied in college, but didn't like the jobs it led to. I was told not to waste my time on a Master's degree, but to head right for a Ph. D. Ha! Like I'd want to turn out like the big boss who told me my future would be boring, but... something positive -- I tuned out after the "boring" and can't remember the so-called good part.
Yes, I was happy as a lark when I changed careers and still am grateful to our late President Reagan without whom I would not have been able to make the switch. That freeze on government hiring made transferring MUCH easier, much to the chagrin of my boring boss. Heh heh.
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