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Courses Spring 2011

I have just uploaded the syllabi for the two courses I’m teaching this semester:

  • The Balance of Power; grad/undergrad lecture; [syllabus]
    This lecture course explores the role of the balance of power in the theory and practice of international relations. We will cover the development of different theoretical views on the balance of power as well as the history of the international balance of power since the turn of the twentieth century. The emphasis is analytic rather than historical. We will also address what the balance of power can highlight on recent, post-Cold War events and trends. By the end of the course, students should be conversant in the theoretical aspects of balance-of-power scholarship and also have a broad picture of the historical development of the rise and fall of great powers in the last hundred years. The course meets three times a week: twice for a lecture plus once for a discussion section.
  • Military Power; grad/undergrad seminar; [syllabus]
    This seminar explores the foundations, application, evolution, and limits of military power. We will read the main foundational text on the topic — Clausewitz’s On War — and pair it with contemporary readings that complement it on the several aspects referred above. We will cover topics such as the relation between military power and politics, technology, coercion, and ethics, as well as the sources of military effectiveness, the problems of civil-military relations, and contemporary topics such as the revolution in military affairs and the problems with military occupations. By the end of the course, students should be able to have a general grasp of the main questions pertaining to the use of military power and its relation to (international and domestic) politics.

categories: education, teaching. | tags: , .

Posted at 2:04 pm


From the Dining Room to the Kitchen…

Brillat SavarinHere’s an analogy I thought of today: classes are like dining rooms; workshops are like kitchens. During classes, particularly seminars — as in restaurant dining rooms — you get a chance to develop your taste, figure out what you like and what you don’t, and expose yourself to different ways of cooking / writing. In a workshop setting — as in a kitchen — you get a chance to try out and develop the skills that will enable you to cook / write what you like. That’s why it is so important for graduate students — and undergrads with intellectual aspirations — to move as fast as possible into a workshop setting, first as attendants (and sharp questioners), then as discussants, and finally as presenters. Classes don’t get you there; you don’t get exposed to the process of producing scholarship, only its product.

One of the best features of my Chicago education was the ability to participate in two, three, four weekly workshops where I could read, comment, discuss, and ultimately present work-in-progress. This is of great value, and it will improve your own work even if you never present. Over time, you will internalize the critical skills you see others apply to yet someone else’s papers and will learn how to apply them to your own work, becoming your own discussant and critic. This doesn’t mean you will be able to do without outside critics, but it means you will be able to take your own work to another level even before you bring the other critics in.

So, if during grad school you find yourself thinking workshops are time consuming, think again. They are as important as classes or any other activity. Go to at least once a week, read the paper in advance, come prepared with (at least) one hard question and a suggestion on how to fix the problem you spotted. (The former is useful, but without the latter you run the risk of being ignored or, worse, disliked.)

I know of no better way of developing your critical thinking skills at the same time as you develop your intellectual taste. Particularly if you’re fortunate enough to be at a place where a workshop will always include criticism from those who agree with the author’s viewpoint but disagree with the argument and from those who see things from a completely different viewpoint. Internalizing these two voices is one of the joys of intellectual life.

categories: advising, education. | tags: , , .

Posted at 6:17 am


How do You Know That?

Col. Hans HaldaAfter a week of traveling and fighting a cold — which meant virtually zero blogging — I’m back.

One of the most interesting discoveries of last week was a course taught by Chris Way at Cornell on causal inference, titled “How Do You Know That?” (Click for the syllabus in PDF format.) You know that a syllabus that has a quote by Colonel Hans Landa from Tarantino’s Inglorious Basterds as its epigraph cannot go wrong. (“I love rumors! Facts can be so misleading…”)

The course is a senior seminar drawing on readings from across the social sciences and designed to teach students how to spot the problem with a fishy argument. Readings include such pearls as Stack and Gundlach’s “The Effect of Country Music on Suicide” and a bunch of great stuff I’d never read before on parachutes, cigarettes, basketball, and the perennial social science question of whether gentlemen do indeed prefer blondes.

I may be too old to take courses, but you can bet I’ll be teaching something along these lines not too far in the future.

categories: education, teaching. | tags: , .

Posted at 3:27 pm


Valéry on Research

Paul Valéry is — along with the other Paul, Éluard — one of my favorite French poets of his time. And he is also a valuable source of research advice. Here are two of his aphorisms:

“All that is simple is false, all that is not simple is useless.” (“Tout ce qui est simple est faux, tout ce qui n’est pas simple est inutilisable.”)

“A work is never achieved — meaningless word — but abandoned.” (“Un ouvrage n’est jamais achevé — mot qui n’a aucun sens, — mais abandonné;” sometimes also liberally translated as “A poem is never finished, merely abandoned,” or some such variation.)

Paul ValeryEach of these captures an essential part of the research process. The first one points at an inescapable tension, that between utility and complexity. A simple argument often has a certain “falsity” to it, as it leaves out important parts of the world. Simple arguments are powerful but often blunt. A complex argument, though perhaps it captures the world in more realistic and nuanced ways, is often useless. Complex arguments often have so many moving parts they lose generalizability. Aiming at a compromise between the opposite pulls of simplicity and complexity is central to writing a successful piece of scholarship — be it a term paper or a doctoral dissertation. My approach is to start with something simple and then let the process develop like an accordion in action: expand it to capture the complexity and nuance of the world, thus challenging the initial intuition, then compress it again, discarding the accessory and refocusing on the core of the argument, then expand it again, and so on and so forth.

But when does this end? Here, Valéry’s second aphorism comes to the rescue. I have witnessed a great deal of unnecessary, counterproductive agonizing by students and other authors attempting to perfect their argument beyond what is feasible or useful. Like the poet, the researcher must know when to drop the project, call it done, and move on to the next question. One of the few certainties I have about research is that one will never feel one did a perfect job; that the project is finished, or achieved. The trick is to learn when to drop it; to learn to identify the point beyond which the marginal utility of additional effort becomes negative. Then it’s time to call it a day.

categories: academia, advising, education, philosophy. | tags: .

Posted at 11:06 am


The Hubris-Humility Index

HubrisReflecting on my first year of teaching and advising, I often find myself thinking about the Hubris-Humility Index.

The Hubris-Humility Index is a concept invented by political scientists John Mearsheimer (Chicago; full disclosure, he was my dissertation committee chair) and Stephen Van Evera (MIT) in order to (according to Mearsheimer here) “measure the amount of hubris and humility packed into any individual.”

To get a high score on the hubris-humility index, which is desirable, it is essential to have large quotients of both hubris and humility. If an individual has an abundance of one quality, but a shortage of the other, then he or she gets a low score. A lot of hubris cannot compensate for a lack of humility, and vice versa. In short, you need hubris and humility if you are to be a first-rate thinker.

The more I interact with students, the more I think the HHI is a really good indicator. A good portion of students ranks highly on the hubris side but is made up of terrible listeners who do not take any advice seriously. Then there is another large group of students who rank high on humility, are always ready to change their project and adapt it to your input, but lack the hubris to believe in their ideas and push them just a little bit harder. And in between there’s a small minority of, I’d say, at most 20% of the students, who do well on the HHI: they are bold enough to push their ideas and believe in them deeply, while at the same time being good listeners and putting in the time and effort to incorporate criticism in a thoughtful way that does not erase every trace of their own initial hunch. According to Mearsheimer and Van Evera, it’s this last group that will do well. I think they’re right. But two interesting questions emerge:

First, why is this so? I think the HHI is a good predictor of intellectual potential because to produce good work one needs two things: (i) to believe in it enough to get out of bed with a spring in one’s step and spend the necessary long hours at it and (ii) to be able to think carefully through every criticism (imagined or offered by others) one is fortunate to encounter. The problem is these two requirements often are at odds with each other. People who get very excited about their work often are poor listeners; and people who are great at incorporating criticism often feel they lost their own voice and lose interest in the project. The HHI captures one’s ability to have both these crucial features at once.

Second, can one improve one’s HHI score? Sure. I see it happening in two ways.

The first case is that of the graduate or visiting student (typically coming from an educational system somewhere in Asia or continental Europe, where creative thinking is not encouraged but discipline and obedience is key) who arrives scoring high on the humility factor but almost completely devoid of hubris. Over time, with perseverance, the right environment, and (I’d like to think) the right encouragement from advisors, these students often flourish into creative thinkers — while banking on the ability to listen and work rigorously through criticism that has been drilled into them for years.

The second case is that of the graduate or visiting student (typically from the U.S. educational system where creative thinking is relatively more encouraged but everyone is told they’re special) who arrives setting new records on the hubris score but has no idea what humility means. Over time, some of these students acquire the ability to listen and think through criticism in a way that is divested of emotional attachment, and eventually improve their humility score, achieving a high HHI.

By the way, thinking one’s special, or especially important, which is detrimental to scoring high on the humility factor, is clearly on the rise in the United States. NY Times columnist David Brooks’s favorite piece of sociological data:

In 1950, thousands of teenagers were asked if they considered themselves an “important person.” Twelve percent said yes. In the late 1980s, another few thousand were asked. This time, 80 percent of girls and 77 percent of boys said yes.

But how would you fare on the Hubris Humility Index?

categories: academia, advising, education, ideas. | tags: .

Posted at 11:30 am


Why U.S. Power Does Not Deter Challenges

A short commentary piece of mine on “Why U.S. Power Does Not Deter Challenges” is out in the latest issue of the Yale Journal of International Affairs. The main argument:

“Deterrence and coercion do not only require credible threats that harm will follow from defiance. They require credible assurances that no harm will follow from compliance. In order for America to expect compliance with U.S. demands, it must persuade its foes that they will be punished if and only if they defy us.”

categories: national security, publications. | tags: , .

Posted at 7:09 am