Theory, Historiography, and the Onset of "Imposter Syndrome"

Just a few days ago I read an excellent post over at Dr. Crazy's about how and when students are exposed to theoretical texts. She has "been thinking a lot, first about what it means to enter into academic discourse and second about who has the authority to speak in that discourse (which actually brings Pierre Bourdieu to mind, particularly what he has to say in Language and Symbolic Power about the production and reproduction of "legitimate" language...." She also talks about how she uses theory to help her understand literary texts; she doesn't do theory in the strictest sense. The main point she makes though--which I think is really provocative--is that many undergraduates don't have access to theoretical texts or courses with a heavy theory basis, which then leads to "imposter syndrome" once some of those students get to grad school.* She doesn't use the term "imposter syndrome," but that is the gist: new grad students feel like they are stupid (or less sophisticated intellectually) because they haven't been exposed to Foucault, or Edward Said, or Benedict Anderson, or whomever. Sounds like a sensible observation, right? But I had never really made this connection in such a way before. I posted a fairly long comment in the comment thread over at her blog, but I wanted to go ahead and share my thoughts here as well.

I was not exposed to theory at my SLAC, even though it is a highly-ranked institution that has a solid reputation. I seem to remember professors spouting off names occasionally, but never in any systematic way. Honestly, unless I had a really wonderful professor to help me through it, I'm not entirely sure whether or not I would have understood the point. I am a very practical person, so I would've needed (and still need) to understand why theory is important and how to apply it effectively. By the time I got to graduate school, I had had amazing preparation in many ways, but I was not initiated into the world of theory.

Then, when I went to a very-highly ranked institution for my M.A., I felt like I was stupid compared to the other students. They knew who Habermas and Foucault were...and I just sat there nodding my head, feigning confidence, pretending that I knew what they were talking about.** I gradually picked up some stuff here and there, and then took a somewhat theory-driven course the first year I was at my Ph.D. institution. Yet, to this day I still feel uncomfortable talking about theory in any authoritative way. I think I know the basics about some of the key theorists, but I just don't have the confidence to discuss what I do know.

This leads me to an observation I made during my first year in graduate school when I took a course with a very, VERY theory-driven student in American Studies named Cheri.*** Before each class every student had to turn in two detailed discussion questions (at least a paragraph in length, if not longer) that not only posed a question but also attempted to answer that question. Cheri's questions were completely incomprehensible to me, partly due to the fact that many of them were a full page long, single spaced. Her in-class comments were rambling and complicated, and they involved so much name-dropping you would've thought her life depended on her knowledge of theory. Needless to say, she turned me off to even the prospect of using theory because I began to associate it with people who, like Cheri, use their knowledge to make other people feel inferior (though, I don't think she was doing this in an intentional, mean-spirited way).

Now, since I am far removed from the torture that was class with Cheri, I have modified my position. As I posted over at Crazy's, "I think theory should be incorporated into our scholarship as a way to make our work understandable, not as a way to obfuscate our meaning so only the 'elite academic' types can understand it.... I just wish more historians and American studies people understood that. I know a lot of my AS colleagues incorporate Foucault into their analysis simply because they can, instead of having a legitimate reason. There are many different reasons and ways to use his work, but I get annoyed when theory is used without a purpose." For instance, if you are looking for an American history monograph with a clear use of theory, check out David Waldstreicher's In the Midst of Perpetual Fetes. I think he does a fabulous job.

Reading Crazy's post also made me think about how students are taught (or not taught) historiography.**** In undergrad I didn't get an introduction to historiography conducted in any coherent way. Basically, no one explained the practicality of it. No one said, "This is why it is important to understand what other historians have said about your topic," other than the obvious "you don't want to simply duplicate what others have said." I was really confused because I thought I was supposed to be doing original research, and I didn't understand how reading a historiographical essay was pertinent to that. How could reading a book written in 1945 help me to understand my nineteenth-century research topic? Surely such a book was outdated and my time would be better spent reading secondary sources published in the last decade. And historiographical essays? Bo-ring. In graduate school my eyes were opened, and I think it was due in large part to my advisor spelling it out for me in clear, concise terms. I try to incorporate some sense of historiography into my undergrad courses, always making sure to explain why it is important to understand the "state" of American history and what others have said about this particular topic.

So, for instance, when I teach about slavery in the antebellum South, I talk to my students about how early works on slavery (especially those written by white Southerners like U. B. Phillips) were essentially apologies for slavery: blacks were too naive or too simple to truly survive in the "real" world, so whites had to create this system to help blacks find their place. Then, fast forward to the 1970s, when you have people like Eugene Genovese who discuss how whites took on this paternalistic attitude to help rationalize their mistreatment of other humans. Today historians address things like slave agency; slaves had some control over their existence and could make choices, even if those choices were limited by the coercive nature of the slave system. When I teach this I also emphasize how the worldview and background of each historians is going to influence how they see their subject. This seems to really help undergrads understand the point of this, and I think it makes them more willing to see their own potential biases. I'm sure many other history professors and instructors have found that the topic of slavery provides a perfect entry point into the world of historiography.

This post has gotten way too long, so I'm gonna stop now. I guess I just see parallels between Crazy's views on access to theory and my own observations on historiography. Please head on over to her blog and read her comment thread. I know she would love to hear from you, as would I!

* Crazy, correct me if I'm wrong or have lost the meaning of your original post
** Case in point: the first time someone mentioned the philosopher Claude Levi-Strauss, I thought they were talking about Levi Strauss, the jeans manufacturer. True story ;-).
*** Name changed to protect the not-so innocent.
**** I realize that non-historians may not be familiar with this term. I define it as "the history of historical study" (as the broadest definition). A historiographical essay discusses the current trends in the field, schools of thought, and quickly encapsulates the main arguments made by prominent scholars in that field. An excellent example for Americanists is The New American History edited by Eric Foner. It has thematic chapters on gender, politics, the New Deal, etc.... It was invaluable when I prepared for my comps.