Najaf and American Academia
Part of the reason I am always fascinated with the workings of Najaf is that in many ways they remind me a great deal of American academia. I realize most political scientists aren't accustomed to thinking of the institutions that way, but are more focused on their actual political impact or their societal influence, yet it should be noted that Najaf is more than anything a series of seminaries, and what seminarians do more than anything is at its root scholastic.
In fact, many of the same tensions that roil academia tend to be relevant as concerns Najaf as well. Baqir al-Sadr's primary frustration with Najaf was that it was not addressing issues of concern to the Shi'a laity, focused as it was on the study of arcane, esoteric and highly abstract ideas as set forth in works centuries old, concerning everything from logic to grammar, as well as thoughts about the methodologies from which rules were developed which were expressed in language so opaque and so inscrutable that they can scarcely even be translated sensibly, and are barely understood except by those working in the rarefied atmosphere. This didn't do anything for anybody, concluded Sadr, much as Chief Justice John Roberts has chosen to ridicule law professors for writing articles that relate to Kant and 18th century Bulgarian agriculture laws (or something like that) but are of no use to the bar. Sadr's concern was that the clerics would lose the laity to Marxism, that of Roberts is that the professoriate has lost the interest of the bar and the bench and is too distant from it to be relevant. The reply from the institutions, of course, is obvious enough as well. First, they do involve themselves in matters of public concern (examples may be had, Najaf and its demand for democratic elections, American academia and Supreme Court amicus briefs in a large number of cases), and second, if we don't study Immanuel Kant/16th century logic and rhetoric, then who will and excuse us anyway for devoting ourselves to the life of the mind which last time we checked was what the university/seminary was supposed to be about.
There is an economic aspect to this as well--the Shi'i might want to know why he should tithe 20% of his profits, and the student wants to know why he should front a great deal of tuition costs, to an institution that doesn't seem much concerned with him, or not as concerned in his view as it should be. I pay $40,000 a year, one student at Columbia complained years back, and Professor X won't even leave his office to attend my graduation? Naturally those within the institutions are at times offended at the very suggestion they don't care about their laity. This economic aspect, however, is a more acute problem in academia than Najaf, given the more aggressive and questioning manner of Americans relative to most devout Shi'a, and just as importantly given the rapidly escalating costs of tuition while Najaf's revenue rate remains the same, at 20% of each believer's profits. That's why in the American context we have Rick Perry in Texas calling for a $10,000 bachelor's degree, saying schools should treat students as customers rather than endless funding sources, and should evaluate professors by student evaluations alone. Of course the retort to that is easy enough--my life and work would be easier if that's how you chose to evaluate me. Because how does Home Depot seek to deal with its customers? Make them happy! And what's the best way to make a student happy if you're a professor? Easy tests, light reading, lots of A+ grades (you really think a student is going to say something bad about a professor they expect an A+ from?). But if the Perry solution is extreme to the point of ridiculous, metaphor for modern Republicanism, the problem it seeks to address is perfectly legitimate.
In the end, the tensions in both places are similar. Devote too much effort to scholastic achievement and research glory, and the mission of the institution to its laity (student body in one case, devout believers in the other) can be unacceptably diluted. Devote oneself to satisfying the laity, and the core function of the institution as a place that is dedicated to a life of the mind/life spent in study of the Divine is cheapened. Navigating the balance becomes essential.
HAH
In fact, many of the same tensions that roil academia tend to be relevant as concerns Najaf as well. Baqir al-Sadr's primary frustration with Najaf was that it was not addressing issues of concern to the Shi'a laity, focused as it was on the study of arcane, esoteric and highly abstract ideas as set forth in works centuries old, concerning everything from logic to grammar, as well as thoughts about the methodologies from which rules were developed which were expressed in language so opaque and so inscrutable that they can scarcely even be translated sensibly, and are barely understood except by those working in the rarefied atmosphere. This didn't do anything for anybody, concluded Sadr, much as Chief Justice John Roberts has chosen to ridicule law professors for writing articles that relate to Kant and 18th century Bulgarian agriculture laws (or something like that) but are of no use to the bar. Sadr's concern was that the clerics would lose the laity to Marxism, that of Roberts is that the professoriate has lost the interest of the bar and the bench and is too distant from it to be relevant. The reply from the institutions, of course, is obvious enough as well. First, they do involve themselves in matters of public concern (examples may be had, Najaf and its demand for democratic elections, American academia and Supreme Court amicus briefs in a large number of cases), and second, if we don't study Immanuel Kant/16th century logic and rhetoric, then who will and excuse us anyway for devoting ourselves to the life of the mind which last time we checked was what the university/seminary was supposed to be about.
There is an economic aspect to this as well--the Shi'i might want to know why he should tithe 20% of his profits, and the student wants to know why he should front a great deal of tuition costs, to an institution that doesn't seem much concerned with him, or not as concerned in his view as it should be. I pay $40,000 a year, one student at Columbia complained years back, and Professor X won't even leave his office to attend my graduation? Naturally those within the institutions are at times offended at the very suggestion they don't care about their laity. This economic aspect, however, is a more acute problem in academia than Najaf, given the more aggressive and questioning manner of Americans relative to most devout Shi'a, and just as importantly given the rapidly escalating costs of tuition while Najaf's revenue rate remains the same, at 20% of each believer's profits. That's why in the American context we have Rick Perry in Texas calling for a $10,000 bachelor's degree, saying schools should treat students as customers rather than endless funding sources, and should evaluate professors by student evaluations alone. Of course the retort to that is easy enough--my life and work would be easier if that's how you chose to evaluate me. Because how does Home Depot seek to deal with its customers? Make them happy! And what's the best way to make a student happy if you're a professor? Easy tests, light reading, lots of A+ grades (you really think a student is going to say something bad about a professor they expect an A+ from?). But if the Perry solution is extreme to the point of ridiculous, metaphor for modern Republicanism, the problem it seeks to address is perfectly legitimate.
In the end, the tensions in both places are similar. Devote too much effort to scholastic achievement and research glory, and the mission of the institution to its laity (student body in one case, devout believers in the other) can be unacceptably diluted. Devote oneself to satisfying the laity, and the core function of the institution as a place that is dedicated to a life of the mind/life spent in study of the Divine is cheapened. Navigating the balance becomes essential.
HAH
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