Ever Feel Like You Are Being Set Up to Fail?

A week ago, I was advised to set about "rehabilitating" my "reputation" due to a vindictive person's rumors -- based, incidentally, upon alleged evidence that she herself had deleted. This "rehabilitation" was supposed to take the form of me doing what I have been doing -- facilitating discussions for an organization and presenting my research -- with greater publicity.

Why, oh, why did I think it could end there?

Somewhere along the line the dean decided that a panel discussion on a saintly U.S. president would be a good idea for an event during Black History Month. A colleague at another campus and I were supposed to comprise that panel -- forget that I do not specialize in political history, presidential history, or great, straight, white male history (you know, "real" history). Or hagiography. "What the heck?" I thought, "I could talk about Douglass and Lincoln or the very overlooked story of Lincoln's evolution on issues of race and nineteenth century attitudes toward race. It might even be a little bit fun."

Then, somewhere in the course of about four e-mails that passed among people while I was at (of all ironies) my analyst's office, the original idea disappeared and something completely different took its place. My colleague and I were dropped from the panel, replaced by as yet unnamed outside speakers, and I was put in charge.

"Oh hell no!" I said to myself. "I am not an organizer; and I sure don't want to organize someone else's brainchild."

I sent an e-mail declining to be in charge of it. That was ignored and I was told that I would be given help. In fact, I was told, I should contact that Fellowship woman for help. Wouldn't that be a good idea? Am I crazy for being the only one who sees that contacting her would be a very NOT good idea? Why would I willingly enter into a relationship with a woman who is slandering me "confidentially" to anyone who will listen? "Rehabilitation" mission or not, this woman has proved herself to be completely unethical and toxic.

Then, the colleague who was supposed to be helping in the first place backed out. This panel was not going to be on his campus, so he no longer had an interest in it. I was supposed to help -- in fact, organize -- the panel when he thought it was on his campus. But, on my campus? Oh, no. No help there.

With me now in charge, I started suggesting people whom we might contact. One of the people I suggested has written a book that included an interpretation of the public displays of hero-worship of the saintly president. His interpretation was less than laudatory. He was one of three historians whom I suggested. In response to my suggestions, I received a long, repetitive e-mail ignoring the other names on the list and telling me in great detail that this particular one would not do. The author of the e-mail is completely unfamiliar with his work; but, based on the title, he might not say lots of laudatory things, and we don't want anyone who might be critical of the subject on this panel. Just people who will talk about "complexities."

Understand that, last year, it was o.k. to bring in a speaker who perpetuated flat out lies in his presentation -- and to pay him for these lies. It was also o.k. to bring in journalists masquerading as historians and pay them, too; and don't I dare be all snobby and suggest that perhaps their interpretations are out-of-date, cliche'd and unoriginal.

I digress.

I've already learned that, in regard to the saintly president, most people can only handle debates of this level of "complexity": "he was brilliant and genius." "No, he was genius and brilliant." "I have to respectfully disagree. He was brilliant and genius." "Well, if you look at his address to Congress, you will see that he was genius and brilliant." Then maybe someone else will pipe in with, "I think you are both wrong. He was fantastic." You get the drift?

"Complexities" mean that you include points of view that say he was brilliant, points of view that say he was genius, and points of view that say he was fantastic. Not points of view that might say he was perhaps not predestined to be the Great Emancipator, or that his status as the Great Emancipator might have been more a result of a series of pragmatic decisions than his emergence from the womb as the Bringer of Justice.

"Complexities" also means that you don't allow panelists to suggest that people who commemorate him in Stalinist statuary -- or worse, Norman Rockwellian statuary --may be engaging more in hero-worship than in historical interpretation. They know what they are doing, dammit, so how dare I be all snobby and suggest (or allow others to suggest) that their interpretations might not be the ONLY interpretation.*

This now makes three times in one year that my expertise as a historian was solicited in an academic environment; and, in return, I received lectures on what history is supposed to be by people who hold no degrees -- not even B.A.s -- in the subject.

They do, however, watch the History Channel. So, it's totally the same thing, right?

Before I could tactfully address any objections and refocus the discussion, I learned a small fact that makes invitations to any scholars moot: There is no money for this endeavor. I am supposed to get people to speak at our little school, on a subject connected to Black History, in the midst of Black History Month, for zero dollars. I don't even have money for pizza to make sure that students show up. (Seriously, why has no one here figured out that, other than having the class meet at the speaker's presentation, students will only show up if there is free food? Does no one remember grad school?)

Worse, they don't understand why I would be embarrassed to ask professional, published, even famous historians to volunteer their time. I think it is part of that commitment to "Excellence Without Money" that is sweeping the education systems. Gentleman Caller says this is typical of an attitude that historians -- or really any scholar in the humanities, or any scholar at all -- do what they do because it is fun, not because they have bills to pay. We should be so thrilled that anyone wants to hear us talk that we will do it for free because we are just that dedicated. He then points out that he doesn't go to his mechanic and say "Hey, since you like your job so much, and so many gearheads out there would kill to have it, could you just fix my car without pay this time? You know, just for the fun of the work?" In a way, it's like saying, "what you do has no value."

Which, I suppose, is somewhat akin to the attitude that I get when my expertise is dismissed because it doesn't fit into someone else's agenda, despite the fact that they wanted me to agree with them precisely because I have that expertise. One has to do with respect, the other has to do with payment.

Anyway, to summarize: a panel that I agreed to sit on became a panel that I was supposed to help organize but not sit on, which became a panel that I was supposed to organize with help, which became a panel that I was supposed to organize alone, which became a panel that I was supposed to organize alone ensuring that the panelists do not have challenging ideas; and I'm supposed to do all of this organizing without a dime. Heck, this damn panel wasn't even my idea in the first place, and I don't think it is a particularly good or original idea for a panel, anyway.

After all, who focuses a panel on a white person during Black History Month at a school with an approximately 80% black student population? Sure, the white person was a president who did help civil rights; but is that the story we want to tell black students in a month devoted to black history? That white people are the liberators of the downtrodden races?** That's pure Stuff White People Do: put themselves at the center of the struggle for racial justice and not allow any critique of that narrative.

What was the whole purpose of my involvement in this mess in the first place? To "rehabilitate" my "reputation" to one person who has been slandering me for no discernible reason and to another person who is in no way in the chain of command above me (and whom I have never met), neither of whom appear in my normal, functioning work life.

Did I just slip down a rabbit hole or fall through a looking glass without noticing?

I suppose I shall cowgirl up and, first, tell the dean that my hands are tied until I can be guaranteed some funding. Then, should money be forthcoming, see if I can wrestle some measure of creative and intellectual control over the contents. If money isn't forthcoming, I could wash my hands of the matter, or work with my other contact and give a little talk or facilitate a little discussion from the angle of my own choosing. There has to be more than one way to rise above the influence of an overgrown adolescent, right?


*In a poor effort to be circumspect, I've left out the detail that the occassion for this panel is the exhibition of a new statue commemorating St. President's delivery of one of his speeches. From what I could tell -- but I could be wrong -- it was commissioned by some sort of Sons of Great Heroes organization. It actually could be an excellent statue; but actual discussion over it's representation is verboten. Unless, of couse, said discussion goes: "It's brilliant and genius," "No, no, it's genius and brilliant."

**Incidentally, the verboten author makes just that same argument against a statue of St. President that depicts him in a standing position liberating African Americans in a supplicant position.


UPDATE: Yea! I told the dean that most speakers will expect an honorarium, that it would only be professional to offer one, and she said that she would find the cash. One obstacle overcome -- maybe. Now, to find someone who can speak on something interesting, not "St. President was brilliant and great."

UPDATE #2: Gradually, through yet more e-mails, things seem to be not as dire as when I wrote this last night. Having a project dumped on me in the middle of the end-of-semester stressfest, and then being presented with several roadblocks to that project, all to appease ridiculous people in a ridiculous situation, tends to make me very bitchy and negative. I don't need help with either!

Now, I have to figure out my best end-game here and work toward that in a graceful manner. My end-game is most decidedly not to "rehabilitate my image," but to present a smart, interesting panel of actual historians that will get the St. Presidentophiles to consider new ideas -- and to get experience in negotiating my way through internal funding sources and event logistics. That is, to learn the type of skills that will help me survive anywhere.