In considering the question, "What are the Humanities for," it occurred to me that it was not until I got to the University of Chicago that "humanities" was even a word in my vocabulary.
As a youth, I became intrigued by the likes of Sartre, for the number of times he could use the word "consciousness" in one sentence (I believe the most I recall is nine), and Nietzsche, for reasons that are now beyond me. My first declared major in community college was philosophy, a declaration that would follow me through receiving my BA. I was only a few credits shy of a double major in English, having taken several courses on a stretch of British poetry from the Early Modern period through Milton. I was drawn to this swath of literary production for the ways it dripped with a burgeoning modernity, condensing theological and political problematics into capitvating narratives. Evenings and weekends I spent honing the craft of songwriting and guitar playing, deluded in my hope that my band's snobby, anxious rock songs would somehow have the same impact on an audience of friends and family as the Velvet Underground's "Heroin" or Television's "Marqueen Moon" had on my own burgeoning teenage mind.
Now that I have sufficiently displayed my kaleidoscopic feathers, what is my point? It is something like this: I have clearly spent most of my life with a commitment to the humanities. They pentrated my every day life, structuring my relationship to myself, my friends, peers and romantic partners. But I knew them as "music," "movies," "philosophy," "fiction."
And in some ways, I continue to harbor a belief in the transformative power of "philosophy" that rarely extends to the "humanities." For me, "humanities" is what I have an MA in and therefore want to convince people I am sufficiently knowledeable of for certain employment opportunities. But the term lacks the same personal denotational power as "philosophy."
Of course, I acknowledge that the term "philosophy" faces its own set of problems and denotes as wide a theoretical field as a term like "Marxism." I feel more committed to a philosophical impulse, which I believe is intimately a part of literature, literary theory, artistic production, or the operations of every day life, than philosophy as a scholarly discipline.
Perhaps "the philosophical impulse" is simply another name for Nussbaum's "spirit of the humanities." Either way, for me, "humanities" remains a nebulous term. Therefore, to answer the question, "What are the humanities for," would require putting some meat on the bone, as it were, of what, for me, is a new, yet intimately familiar, term.
Accordingly: What are the humanities?
As a youth, I became intrigued by the likes of Sartre, for the number of times he could use the word "consciousness" in one sentence (I believe the most I recall is nine), and Nietzsche, for reasons that are now beyond me. My first declared major in community college was philosophy, a declaration that would follow me through receiving my BA. I was only a few credits shy of a double major in English, having taken several courses on a stretch of British poetry from the Early Modern period through Milton. I was drawn to this swath of literary production for the ways it dripped with a burgeoning modernity, condensing theological and political problematics into capitvating narratives. Evenings and weekends I spent honing the craft of songwriting and guitar playing, deluded in my hope that my band's snobby, anxious rock songs would somehow have the same impact on an audience of friends and family as the Velvet Underground's "Heroin" or Television's "Marqueen Moon" had on my own burgeoning teenage mind.
Now that I have sufficiently displayed my kaleidoscopic feathers, what is my point? It is something like this: I have clearly spent most of my life with a commitment to the humanities. They pentrated my every day life, structuring my relationship to myself, my friends, peers and romantic partners. But I knew them as "music," "movies," "philosophy," "fiction."
And in some ways, I continue to harbor a belief in the transformative power of "philosophy" that rarely extends to the "humanities." For me, "humanities" is what I have an MA in and therefore want to convince people I am sufficiently knowledeable of for certain employment opportunities. But the term lacks the same personal denotational power as "philosophy."
Of course, I acknowledge that the term "philosophy" faces its own set of problems and denotes as wide a theoretical field as a term like "Marxism." I feel more committed to a philosophical impulse, which I believe is intimately a part of literature, literary theory, artistic production, or the operations of every day life, than philosophy as a scholarly discipline.
Perhaps "the philosophical impulse" is simply another name for Nussbaum's "spirit of the humanities." Either way, for me, "humanities" remains a nebulous term. Therefore, to answer the question, "What are the humanities for," would require putting some meat on the bone, as it were, of what, for me, is a new, yet intimately familiar, term.
Accordingly: What are the humanities?
I agree that the definition is elusive (frustratingly so? ironically so?) and share your search for some sort of meaningful, fully expressive description. I kind of really like the approach in this recent graduation speech to "humanists" from New Republic editor Leon Wieseltier. He defines humanities by what it isn't, or what it actively fights against: chiefly, this thing he calls "scientism" -- an obsession with quantification of human experience, a peril exacerbated by growing dependence on and enthusiasm for technology. http://www.newrepublic.com/article/113299/leon-wieseltier-commencement-speech-brandeis-university-2013#
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