Ben, thanks for your post. I found your area of research really fascinating. However, I disagree with your final statement “I’d recommend programming over the humanities if the goal is to create innovators.”
I was wondering if you went through the Dan Edelstein’s article on “How Is Innovation Taught? On the Humanities and the Knowledge Economy”? He gives several great points on why we should value the humanities, some of the key points he mentions are:
1. “People often underscore the central role of the humanities in cultivating a sense of civic duty and citizenship, in enabling students to assess standards of human excellence, or in developing a sense of compassion for others. In a more practical vein, the skills that the humanities foster—such as a clear writing style, or rational analysis—bear only indirectly on professional success.”
2. This second point here is especially in regards to your point regarding innovation: “government funding agencies ought to support “whole-brain” research agendas, as opposed to the usual “left-brain” grant proposals. “Perhaps art, literature or music portfolios [should] become part of the science and engineering application processes,” they propose. Their reason? “Innovation […] requires the attributes of the humanities found in right-brain thinking: creativity, artistry, intuition, symbology, fantasy, emotions.”
3. This rather large excerpt from the article really drives home the point on the importance of humanities in innovation:
“Students studying the American Revolution, for instance, are not only expected to know the names and dates of all the important players or events. They are also obliged to demonstrate that they can make sense on their own of the material; that they can develop original arguments about reasons, motivations, and outcomes for the past.
This point may seem overly subtle, but it becomes clearly evident in the case of final papers. If you provide the same answers as fifty other students on a calculus exam, you may very well get an A—assuming, of course, that those were the correct answers. But if you hand in a final essay for your American history course, in which you develop the same thesis as fifty other students, you would most likely not get an A, since original thinking is one of the criteria used to evaluate a student’s understanding and assimilation of material.
Furthermore, while science and math classes may on occasion demand that the students find innovative methods for solving problems, the humanities demand originality from day one. As I recounted in an earlier version of this piece (Edelstein 2009), I first became aware of this expectation when teaching an Introduction to the Humanities course to freshmen at Stanford. Speaking with me after class, two Chinese students expressed their confusion at having to write papers that defended an original thesis. Their high schools had focused only on memorization, whereas we were asking them to explain what they thought about literary texts.
What took our international students by surprise is precisely one of the central ingredients of American liberal education. As part of our ambition to create independently minded individuals, we encourage students to think for themselves. They might not come up with ideas that are “original” in the grand scheme of things, but they are expected to reach conclusions on their own. The entire reward system of the humanities, moreover, favors those students who either make a convincing case for an unusual argument, or an unusual case for a convincing argument. In both scenarios, high grades and prizes go to students who demonstrate the most originality.
Classes in the humanities not only offer students the best opportunities to practice innovative thinking, but also provide them with models for how to do so. Professors, after all, are not simply there to transmit discrete data packages about books, compositions, theories, or events, but rather to show the students how one goes about piecing together an argument and narrative around a subject. Professors “perform innovation” when they offer, say, a political reading of Hamlet, an economic interpretation of the American Revolution, or a Hegelian analysis of Marx. The best pedagogical practices in the humanities draw attention to the fact that the knowledge being conveyed is questionable. This is not an invitation to rampant revisionism or postmodernism, but a simple recognition that historical, literary, political, and anthropological knowledge is not made up of equations or organic structures, but of perceptions, arguments, aesthetic effects, philosophical concepts, and other representations whose signification is subject to change. The words of Hamlet or of the Declaration of Independence may not vary, but their meaning can.”