Introduction

Author(s):  
Richard M. Freeland

This book began as an exploration of a paradox in the history of American universities. In the twenty-five years following World War II, the student population served by these institutions became more diverse and the societal purposes they served became more varied. Yet, during the same period, universities themselves became more alike. The contradictions were easy to observe. It was obvious that the academic and social backgrounds of students—and consequently their needs, skills, and interests—became more heterogeneous in the postwar years, yet the undergraduate curricula of universities increasingly stressed highly academic subjects, especially the arts and sciences. Similarly, universities pursued a well-documented trend toward greater involvement in practical affairs and social problem solving in the 1950s and 1960s, while also adhering to a narrowing focus on doctoral programs and research in the basic disciplines. I wanted to understand the forces, both internal and external to campuses, that promoted this puzzling conjunction of converging characteristics and expanding functions. I also wanted to assess the academic and social consequences of this pattern. The decline of institutional diversity was only the most startling of a number of apparently inconsistent developments associated with an era of historic growth among universities. Almost as curious was the fact that, while expansion occurred mostly to accommodate increased demand for college education, institutional attention to teaching diminished, as did concern about the undergraduate curriculum. Meanwhile, graduate programs, whose chief function was to train college teachers, tended to slight preparation for instructional work and to nurture research skills. Indeed, as growth intensified academia’s role in socializing the nation’s youth, universities dismantled the programs of general education that were the primary vehicles they had created for that purpose. More broadly, the active involvement of universities in the definition and resolution of social problems went hand in hand with the consolidation of an academic value system quite remote from most Americans. Even the increasing heterogeneity of the student population was not free of contradiction. Academic leaders claimed credit for making their institutions more democratic during the postwar years by reducing traditional barriers to admission—including those of income and race.

Author(s):  
Souleymane Bachir Diagne

Souleymane Bachir Diagne’s text is on the history of what has been called ‘African philosophy,’ a phrase with origins in the early post-World War II period. Diagne begins by tracing the complex history and legacy of the book Bantu Philosophy (1949), which was written by the philosopher and theologian Placide Tempels, a Franciscan missionary and Belgian citizen. Diagne argues that that text represented an important break with the way in which Africa had been ignored and set aside in philosophical circles (a practice that Diagne traces to Hegel). From there, he outlines how currents in African philosophy first imitated, and then later broke with, Tempels’s model. He concludes with observations on current trends in African philosophy, which above all focus on democratic transitions, human rights, the future of the arts, citizenship, and languages in use on the continent today.


Author(s):  
Leon Botstein

It should go without saying that in the twentieth-century history of American higher education, each significant curricular reform movement has had a distinct political agenda. This is particularly true for initiatives designed to create decisive changes in the shape of the undergraduate curriculum. In those circumstances in which a political movement and an institutional initiative have coincided, a distinct political purpose can be discerned in what the institution required of its students and how the program was articulated. The historical moment was certainly at issue in the case of the reforms of the 1930s. Men such as Robert Hutchins, Stringfellow Barr, and Scott Buchanan saw in the idea of a core curriculum a way to realize their ideal construct of democracy. The Great Books concept and the variants of the core at Chicago had at their root a notion of natural rights and the social contract. Inherent in that framing of the body politic were concepts of freedom and civic responsibility. The objective was clear: one needed to educate young Americans—the elite of the nation—to steer the country away from the extremes of fascism and communism. Radical reform was imperative, since during the Great Depression both of these alternatives appeared politically viable. In the post-World War II era, the Cold War framed most of the discussion about the curriculum. This claim may seem odd, but on closer inspection, beginning with Harvard's general education reform from the early 1950s, the concept of the university, until the late 1980s, was substantially defined by a consciousness of how much the United States constituted an alternative to political unfreedom. The elective-course system in its new Harvard form, combined with distribution requirements and an enormous premium on undergraduate specialization, was a kind of metaphorical mirror of the idealized free marketplace of ideas. We were convinced that we were training young people to cherish the advantages of free choice and liberty in a world in which the grim alternative of totalitarianism was not a mirage but a present danger.


Author(s):  
Richard M. Freeland

Tufts College, traditionally focused on undergraduate education in the arts and sciences, responded to the opportunities of the postwar years with new emphases on research and doctoral-level programs. A new name, “Tufts University,” signified the change. The leaders of Tufts intended, however, to retain a primary emphasis on undergraduate work. During these same years, a new university, Brandeis, sponsored by a group of American Jews, joined the state’s academic community. Brandeis’s founders also conceived their institution as centrally concerned with undergraduate education, although they too intended to build a modest array of graduate programs, especially in the arts and sciences. In projecting their development during the 1950s and 1960s, Tufts and Brandeis set out to become different versions of a distinctive institutional idea: the college-centered university. By the early 1940s, President Leonard Carmichael of Tufts, like his counterparts at Harvard and M.I.T., had come to regard World War II as a time of opportunity, despite immediate, war-related problems of enrollment and finance. Carmichael’s wartime reports referred repeatedly to new possibilities arising from the military emergency. He welcomed a Navy R.O.T.C. unit to Medford as a chance for greater visibility as well as for public service. He speculated that increased awareness of international issues would benefit the Fletcher School. Most important of all, given Tufts’s history of straightened finances, was the possibility of new federal support. “It is ... not too early,” Carmichael told his trustees in the middle of the war, “for all of us to do what we can to see to it that the men who administer our postwar education [at the federal level]... have an appreciation of the importance to this nation of colleges and universities with varied objectives and varied bases of administration and support.” If federal funds were to become available, Carmichael wanted to be sure that private institutions got their share, and he assured his board that “every effort is being made to maintain our relationships with the armed services... so that Tufts’s peculiar qualities—a university-college in which teaching and research go forward together—may be maintained ...”


Author(s):  
Svitlana FEDORENKO ◽  

On the basis of the analysis of the U. S. general education curriculathe three mainprinciples oftheir design (i.e. content, teaching and learning strategies, assessment and evaluation processes) are identified and enlarged upon: principle of systemicity (supported by identifying components of general education and specify-ing its tasks as a system to ensure its integrity and focus on forming students’ transferable skills); principle of plu-ralism (focused on taking into account constant sociocul-tural changes in globalized pluralistic societywithin dif-ferent knowledge areas of general education); principle of effectiveness (based on defining the outcomes of learning and personal development of students in the system of general education). The general education component in the undergraduate curriculum is highlighted as the core of the undergraduate academic experience developing im-portant intellectual and civic capacities of students. The typical content of general education curriculum at the U. S. higher education institutions is outlined, comprising “thecommunicative component” (composition and rhetoric coursesorwriting studies,and first year seminarson various sociocultural themes), and “the breadth compo-nent” (the arts, natural and social sciences, and mathe-matics). It is stated that the U.S.general education is intended to acquaint students with sociocultural knowledge accumulated by humanity; promote better self-understanding and awareness of their place and role in society; develop the ability to adequately assess the pos-sibilities for their self-realization; teach students to think independently and critically, and to communicate in a civilized and effective way with other people and the world at large


Arthur Szyk ◽  
2004 ◽  
pp. 5-27
Author(s):  
Joseph P. Ansell

This chapter traces the early years of Arthur Szyk's life, from his birth to the early nineteenth century, before World War II began. He was born in Łódź, an industrial city in the Russian-dominated portion of Poland, in 1894. At the time Poland was not an intact, independent nation; it had been partitioned among Russia, Prussia, and Austria more than a century earlier. It was within this backdrop that the young Szyk began cultivating an interest in art. He also began to develop a passionate interest in history, both world history and the history of his people. More importantly, even at this very early age, Szyk saw the power of art within the political arena. The chapter tracks his early career in the arts during the early 1900s, and how he began to apply politics to his creative work as tensions between Poland and Russia reached their breaking point.


Slavic Review ◽  
1967 ◽  
Vol 26 (2) ◽  
pp. 204-216 ◽  
Author(s):  
Donald D. Egbert

The Arts of Bulgaria since World War II are of considerable interest for the history of art largely because they so directly demonstrate what happens to the arts of a previously non-Communist country under Soviet dominance. Since the Communist take-over, not only has Bulgarian art directly reflected the Soviet political line but it has done this even more thoroughly than the art of the Soviet Union itself. For beautiful Bulgaria is such a compact and homogeneous little country—about 325 miles long and 215 miles wide, with a population of only 8 million people, about 90 percent of whom are of specifically Bulgarian stock—that its Communist government can control the arts with far greater ease than can the regime of so enormous and racially diversified a nation as the Soviet Union. Even long before World War II, Slavic Bulgaria had closer cultural links with Slavic Russia than did any of the other countries that fell under Soviet political domination as a consequence of the war. As might therefore have been expected, its arts have reflected the influence of the Soviet aesthetic of “socialist realism”—and the distinct but related and highly relevant Stalinist formula of an art “national in form and socialist in content”—more directly than have those of the other “satellites.”


2018 ◽  
Vol 7 (2) ◽  
pp. 117-128 ◽  
Author(s):  
Erin Sullivan ◽  
Marie Louise Herzfeld-Schild

This introduction surveys the rise of the history of emotions as a field and the role of the arts in such developments. Reflecting on the foundational role of the arts in the early emotion-oriented histories of Johan Huizinga and Jacob Burkhardt, as well as the concerns about methodological impressionism that have sometimes arisen in response to such studies, the introduction considers how intensive engagements with the arts can open up new insights into past emotions while still being historically and theoretically rigorous. Drawing on a wide range of emotionally charged art works from different times and places—including the novels of Carson McCullers and Harriet Beecher-Stowe, the private poetry of neo-Confucian Chinese civil servants, the photojournalism of twentieth-century war correspondents, and music from Igor Stravinsky to the Beatles—the introduction proposes five ways in which art in all its forms contributes to emotional life and consequently to emotional histories: first, by incubating deep emotional experiences that contribute to formations of identity; second, by acting as a place for the expression of private or deviant emotions; third, by functioning as a barometer of wider cultural and attitudinal change; fourth, by serving as an engine of momentous historical change; and fifth, by working as a tool for emotional connection across communities, both within specific time periods but also across them. The introduction finishes by outlining how the special issue's five articles and review section address each of these categories, while also illustrating new methodological possibilities for the field.


Author(s):  
C. Claire Thomson

This chapter traces the early history of state-sponsored informational filmmaking in Denmark, emphasising its organisation as a ‘cooperative’ of organisations and government agencies. After an account of the establishment and early development of the agency Dansk Kulturfilm in the 1930s, the chapter considers two of its earliest productions, both process films documenting the manufacture of bricks and meat products. The broader context of documentary in Denmark is fleshed out with an account of the production and reception of Poul Henningsen’s seminal film Danmark (1935), and the international context is accounted for with an overview of the development of state-supported filmmaking in the UK, Italy and Germany. Developments in the funding and output of Dansk Kulturfilm up to World War II are outlined, followed by an account of the impact of the German Occupation of Denmark on domestic informational film. The establishment of the Danish Government Film Committee or Ministeriernes Filmudvalg kick-started aprofessionalisation of state-sponsored filmmaking, and two wartime public information films are briefly analysed as examples of its early output. The chapter concludes with an account of the relations between the Danish Resistance and an emerging generation of documentarists.


1994 ◽  
Vol 18 (1) ◽  
pp. 3-9 ◽  
Author(s):  
Wolfgang Domling
Keyword(s):  
The Arts ◽  

Author(s):  
Charles S. Maier ◽  
Charles S. Maier

The author, one of the most prominent contemporary scholars of European history, published this, his first book, in 1975. Based on extensive archival research, the book examines how European societies progressed from a moment of social vulnerability to one of political and economic stabilization. Arguing that a common trajectory calls for a multi country analysis, the book provides a comparative history of three European nations—France, Germany, and Italy—and argues that they did not simply return to a prewar status quo, but achieved a new balance of state authority and interest group representation. While most previous accounts presented the decade as a prelude to the Depression and dictatorships, the author suggests that the stabilization of the 1920s, vulnerable as it was, foreshadowed the more enduring political stability achieved after World War II. The immense and ambitious scope of this book, its ability to follow diverse histories in detail, and its effort to explain stabilization—and not just revolution or breakdown—have made it a classic of European history.


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