My Letter to the President and Provost of NYU

On Monday, 150 of my students and colleagues were arrested on campus during a peaceful protest. This is the letter I wrote to the president and the provost in response:

Dear Linda and Gigi,

I am writing to you adjacent to the letter you will have received from a group of Jewish faculty members regarding recent events on campus. I am writing separately because I do not want to co-sign a letter that calls for BDS or the closure of the Tel Aviv study abroad site; however, in every other respect I am in agreement with the concerns outlined in the letter by those colleagues with whom I am in religious community.

As a matter of principle, I do not believe in cultural or academic boycotts. As a practical matter, I conduct research in archives and libraries in Israel and have fruitful collaborations with colleagues there, many of whom are among the fiercest critics of the Israeli government and its policies toward Palestinians and regarding other matters such as judicial transparency, religious pluralism, and gender equity. I consider myself fortunate to have spent time at NYU-Tel Aviv as part of the GRI. However, I do believe that the value of boycotts is a matter on which reasonable people can disagree and that students and faculty must not be inhibited from expressing their opinions, demanding change, and trying to persuade others of their perspective.

Like my colleagues who have already written to you, I am dismayed by the extent to which claims of antisemitism have been exaggerated and used to quash student and faculty expression. While I may not agree with the substance of much of the protest or the set of demands coming from the students who formed the encampment on Gould Plaza and while I may find some of their commentary, chanting, etc., to be disagreeable, in poor taste, incorrect, or objectionable, I have a difficult time construing those things as threats to me as an American Jew on an American university campus.

I have seen the national debate at large about US involvement in Israel and about Israeli policies use antisemitic tropes and trade at times in antisemitic ideas. However, by and large that has not been the case at NYU and I am grateful to my students and colleagues that we can disagree about a very serious political matter without our discussions taking that sinister turn. It is my own opinion that calls for the end of Israel as a Jewish state without similar calls for the end of other theocracies or countries with records of human rights violations may be questionable in their motivation and their impact. However, I can also recognize that many people, including many Jews, do not view it that way; and it is precisely because disagreement exists on this question that I could not imagine imposing my own perspective on this matter, foreclosing discussion entirely, or asking the university to do it in the name of protecting me and my peers.

Linda, we have only met a few times in the context of your previous role in Global and my involvement with programming at NYU-Madrid, but if I may address you directly as I close my letter: It meant a tremendous amount to me to see a Jewish woman appointed president of the university. There’s no real reason for it except that affinity is funny like that. Now, however, I am embarrassed and angry to see a coreligionist quashing debate, which is so central to the Jewish tradition, and, what’s more, turning state power on other religious minorities — I am truly at a loss for words to describe my reaction to seeing photos and video of arrests being carried out while Muslim students were praying maghrib. First and most importantly, it is simply wrong. And second, I am acutely aware that anything that the state can do to a Muslim minority it can ultimately do to a Jewish minority as well. The actions of the NYPD on campus this week sanctioned by your office have not made us safer and have instead enacted a permission structure for repressing not only political but religious speech.

I know through my own area of academic expertise, namely the intertwined intellectual history of Jews, Christians, and Muslims in medieval Spain, that members of the same and different religions can disagree fiercely, pray differently, and sometimes even insult each other polemically while most of the time still managing to walk the fine line of coexistence, resolving tensions through thoughtful engagement and agreement to disagree; based on what I know of your work as a filmmaker, I suspect you know this, too.

I urge you in the strongest possible terms to reconsider your position. Please: do not impose punishments on the students who have exercised their freedom of expression this year and especially this week and do not sanction my colleagues who were arrested while trying to protect them. Treat their demands as demands to be addressed on their face and not as trespass against the university or any of its constituent communities. And barring real violence, please do not breach the trust of our university community by inviting the police to arrest students and faculty on campus. In short, please uphold the university’s own existing commitments to student and faculty freedom of expression and the right to protest.

I appreciate your consideration of my concerns.

Sarah Pearce

Associate Professor, Department of Spanish and Portuguese

Lone Medievalist Challenge: Place to Visit

The first travel that I did after I knew that my tenure bid had been approved was to take a weekend trip to the city of Zaragoza in between two conferences a week apart in Cordoba and Barcelona, early in the summer of 2017. This was a really meaningful trip to me because before I had tenure I struck a bargain with myself that if I kept my butt in my chair and got my work done, in spite of feeling like I was sacrificing having any kind of life, that I’d do things just because I wanted to once I was post-book and post-tenure. It was especially hard to keep up the first half of the bargain the semester that I was at NYU-Madrid, when I had planned to start on a new project at the National Library there and spend weekends tromping around Castilian castles; and I couldn’t do any of htat because the book manuscript still needed significant this work. This trip to Zaragoza, then, a weekend between two conferences in Spain and Israel, was the first thing I did to keep the second half of that bargain with myself. And so Zaragoza, medieval and otherwise, — well, I understand why people who live there complain about it, but — as a place to visit for me represents a kind of personal and intellectual freedom that was totally new.

Richard Wagner, Michael Camille, and Me

I edit my CV down. Nothing I did in grad school is there anymore. The undergraduate senior essay prize I was so proud of came off when I got my first job. Talks I’ve given in more minor circumstances or that I’ve given more than once aren’t all there anymore. I keep a running complete list in my own files, but nobody looking at my vita needs to be bored with every last conference presentation I’ve ever made, and now that I’m (shudder) a mid-career academic, the things I did very early on just don’t matter that much anymore.

I’m editing my CV now for the end of the academic year and in anticipation of being able to share a new accomplishment when it’s announced publicly in the coming days. It’s a good stock-taking exercise, too. I realized that this year is the year that my book reviews all spiraled out of control into full-length essays, which has occasioned a chance to think about the kind of work I want to do and how I might situate myself as a historiographer as well as a cultural historian.

Soul-searching vis-a-vis the field of Medieval Studies and its history and implication in the current edition of the culture wars has returned to the fore in the wake of a NYTimes article published over the weekend that presented issues of race and white supremacy in and around the field as a series of social media spats as much as anything.

In the wake of this, I’m in New York to see the first half of Wagner’s Ring Cycle at the Met Opera. (The logistics are complicated; I had initially planned to be back to New York from Michigan by now and bought my tickets based on that assumption. I’m not, but I was able to schedule some meetings on campus in conjunction with a workshop I co-led at Cornell over the weekend, such that the timing worked out for me to be able to at least see the first half. Be that as it may.) Wagner is, of course, all kinds of implicated in genocidal white supremacy. But I love the music and, as Ernst Bloch (whose Avodat Kodesh I also love), I’m not prepared to cede it to the Nazis. The Ring is not particularly subtle, which is part of why I like it. It’s big and bombastic. It’s also very obvious the ways in which it originated in German nationalist folklore and how and why it appealed to Hitler. I can appreciate the music while utterly renouncing the convictions of the composer and the ways in which his work was put to political use. That’s what I meant when I wrote this tweet:

I was almost immediately questioned aggressively by the two directors of an open-access academic press who tweet in the voice of a corporate “we” that I find oddly disquieting. My interactions with them in the past have begun with equal measures of bombast, self-righteousness, and aggression. It, as the kids these days say, escalated quickly.

I’m not sure why this press feels that it is the position to paternalistically “offer” me the “opportunity” to explain myself or is entitled to an answer, what one of its editorial directors hating Wagner has to do with it, or why my disinterest in talking to a hostile, disembodied, corporate “we” in 280-character bursts means that I’m a white supremacist, but here we are.

As much as white, Christian progressives in my field are signing onto a kind of “cancel culture” that demands renunciation of works of art created by despicable people who hold views inimical to their individual lives, I don’t have that luxury. If I were to give up every work of literature written by an anti-Semite, the horizons of my written world would become small and impoverished. (Don’t tell, but I love T.S. Eliot, too.) I’ve written, too, about how as an Arabist I don’t have the luxury of not using a dictionary that that was written for the express purpose of translating Mein Kampf into Arabic. As a Hispanist, I don’t have the luxury of not dealing with archivists and librarians who held positions, and gladly, in Franco’s government. It’s easy and satisfying, I’m sure, to renounce all of these things and be done with them. It’s harder but more necessary to live in the world as it is, working to mitigate the harms of reality.

I was really proud to have been awarded the Michael Camille Memorial Essay Prize in 2014 for work I did on the only surviving manuscript of Judah ibn Tibbon’s ethical will. To me, receiving an award named after an art historian affirmed the interdisciplinary nature of my work and my ability to speak to scholars trained in many fields of study, which, as the odd-duck Arabist in the back corner of a Spanish department, I have always seen as an important part of my academic portfolio. It was rewarding to have that work and those skills validated publicly. But the award is made by the journal Postmedieval and the Babel Working group, both of which are adjacent to Punctum Books and have heavy involvement from one of its editorial directors. As proud as I am of that award, I don’t really want a prize awarded by a body headed by someone who will so quickly and inaccurately fling about accusations of white supremacy, and fling them at me. So at least for the time being, in this round of editing down my CV, I’m going to remove that award. I already have tenure. I don’t need to prove myself through my CV in the way that I used to. In this instance I do have the luxury to be able to stand on principle now.

Lucky her she’s not a medievalist, but Roxanne Gay posted this recently:

If I could find a way to write this all up without making it sound simultaneously bonkers and like nothing more than Twitter-gone-wrong (as if a Twitter spat were the telos) I’d write to the editorial board and, five years on, decline the prize and return the money that came with the award. I’m still thinking it through, and I don’t know that I have the rhetorical skill to pull it off; Twitter truly warps a person’s thinking and writing when it all comes to this. The state of play right now is crazy-making. Instead, as it stands, I think I will handle this by making a contribution in the amount of the Camille prize, in Michael Camille’s memory, to an organization that I have worked for and support regularly that fights discrimination from within my own broader religious community directed at non-Orthodox Jews and, especially, Jews of Color.

I try to take seriously the responsibility of honoring the memory of the scholars who shaped my thinking and my work. (And in fact, another piece of my complicated appreciation of Wagner is due to the fact that he was the favored composer of one of my teachers, who not only taught me how to be a cultural historian, but also a human being. And so I listen to Wagner for myself, but also in honor of her memory.) Part of the reason I was so proud to have received an award in his memory is because it was his book on the 19th-century renovations of Notre Dame (it’s really all coming crashing, coincidentally, down in the last few weeks, no?) that introduced me to the ideas of medievalism and reception history as fields of inquiry. But for right now, I think that the best choice I can make is to take the award, and his name as it is associated with bad actors in the field who seem invested in maligning me, off my CV for a while and hope that better days will come when I can return it to its place.

Staving Off Panic Through List-Making, Early 2017 Edition

I start teaching on Monday and have hit the point of panicking about how much work I have to get done by the end of the month/first week of February. It’s quite a bit of work, and on top of that I have personal/family commitments that I’m no longer willing to completely sublimate to my academic life. All I want to do is shout, very loudly: “I’m doing the very best that I can to get to everything that everyone needs/wants from me!” Instead, I’m making a list to try to keep track of it all, possibly solicit the occasional sympathetic pat on the head, and, perhaps, passive-aggressively indicate to the world that is waiting on stuff from me that I’m not just being delinquent — I’m really pretty slammed.

— Finish Humanities Initiative team-teaching grant (Draft. Final version.)

— Read/comment on someone else’s Humanities Initiative grant (Not going to happen, so I’m just crossing it off the list.)

— Write paper for Abu Dhabi conference. Possibly in Spanish.

— Finish writing chapter for edited volume on the literary forms of philosophy

— Finish writing chapter for edited volume on Amichai, Lorca, and Ibn Naghrila

— One other miscellaneous writing task for an edited volume

— Finish syllabus for grad seminar on medievalism

—Write syllabus for specialized grad seminar

— Reconcile accounts from Spain trip

— Review essay for LARB

I’m sure there’s something else I’m forgetting at the moment (Oh, right. Finish editing the proposal for an overhauled undergraduate major in the department.)

— Catch up on emails (Some of them. The rest of them.)

— Resist hatred being spewed and encouraged by the new presidential administration.(This, of course, will not be done until 2020, and there are more substantial things to do that mere gestures, but I started out by wearing a bracelet with the Throne Verse written in Arabic while traveling on an airplane as a way to normalize the presence of the language in transit. In the more action-oriented column, I signed up for 10 Actions/100 Days and plan to participate in all the protest actions. ETA1/29: Also attended the emergency protest this week in Washington Square part against the Muslim Ban. ETA 2/2: Added myself to a database of people who can volunteer to translate at the airport.)

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