The value of the humanities has long been under-represented in public discourse in this country. Attempting to put this right, Stefan Collini kicked off the days proceedings with a brilliant call to arms: scholars in the humanities must resist the dominance of economic vocabulary in argument about public goodsthat is, measuring the value of Shakespeare in terms of ticket sales at Stratfordand refuse to allow the governments quality assurance vocabulary to colonise their own sense of what theyre up to. Real education involves an inherently risky and unpredictable interaction between minds, he said, so the idea that its quality can be assured is a nonsense.
I found myself wanting simultaneously to cheer and hold my head in my hands. Even my youngest child, who is only seven, has to head every piece of classwork she does by specifiying its Learning Objective. So proficient are she and her classmates in quality assurance lingo that all they actually have to write is LO.
The idea that school-leavers and their prospective teachers at university form a natural alliance against uncomprehending martians from BISin case you didnt know, higher education is now in the hands of the department for business, innovation and skillsis, I fear, a fantasy, not least because young people spend 13 years in schools drinking in the very same misunderstandings about the value of the humanities (in fact, the value of most things) that Collini was complaining about. Friends of the humanities certainly need to inspire one another, but they must also find ways to talk over the heads of bureaucrats to the wider constituency of their own future students and future colleagues.
But finding words in which to do this is no easy task, in part thanks to the very notion of what it is for something to be valuableas studying humanities subjects surely isfor its own sake. Much of the time when we explain why something is worth doing, we point to some further effect: its good because it makes you healthy, say, or because it promotes economic growth. Of course we are entitled to ask, of most further effects, whats so good about that? But the explanations that carry conviction cite further effects where on the whole people dont bother to ask the follow-up questionwisely (as with health) or maybe not so wisely (as with growth). However, what it means for something to be good for its own sake is that explanations of that sort are out of place.
This is not to say no explanation can be given of the value of such things. Things we pursue for their own sakesfrom fly fishing to philosophyeach come with a rich vocabulary which insiders use to judge work within that field. But such insider-speak by its nature wont be very good at conveying the value of the activity to someone who is not already part of ita minister at BIS, for example. When talking to outsiders, often all there is to fall back on are generalities like its an end in itself which, when not carried along by the current of insider-speak they summarise, sound rather lame, and rarely make the standard outsiders challengeyes, but what is it for?go away.
Iain Pears, art historian and novelist, proposed a more drastic remedy: since humanities degrees cost less and attract more applicants, humanities should simply cut loose from the sciences. For instance, if a facultys budget depended on its fee income minus the costs of providing the course, humanities departments might be better off, no longer having to justify themselves to uncomprehending paymasters. But is a divorce really desirable? Not only does some fertile work in the humanities depend on having scientists around to talk to, but the problem of justifying their research face the sciences just as acutely. If what funding councils want is impact, will they be any more willing to fund blue skies research in pure science than they will a new monograph on Milton?
Intellectual historian Quentin Skinner was guardedly more optimistic, arguing that theres no reason why research in the humanities shouldnt live up to the most stringently philistine standards of social utility. His example was Princeton philosopher Philip Pettit. Having developed his civic republican political philosophy without any eye to consequences, Pettit was invited in 2004 by José Luis Zapatero, the newly elected prime minister of Spain, to tell the Spanish government what it needed to do in order to live up to civic republican ideals. Not only that, but three years later Zapatero invited Pettit back to judge whether he had stayed on track. So blue skies work in the humanities stands as good a chance as blue skies science of making a fundamental practical difference.