What if the public policy and political science departments had a love child?
As a look back on my academic history, as nostalgic seniors are inclined to do, I’ve been thinking about what my major (political science) could embrace from the department from which I got my journalism certificate (public policy).
I absolutely don’t regret being a political science major (though I do wish I had also majored in English—the Connor Southard-esque arguments about that department are for another column). But as I try to identify how, specifically, I’ve changed as a result of the ten classes in the discipline, I’m almost at a loss. Perhaps this isn’t a problem—maybe a liberal arts education shouldn’t entail thinking about knowledge as pure acquisition—but it’s still an important issue to explore.
Justin Zhao (Trinity ’13), president of the Political Science Students Association, wrote in an email, “There is a general misconception that people who want higher level political theory for law school go to political science and kids who want to get more concrete tangible knowledge for the real world and who want jobs go to public policy. I chose political science because the department as a whole seemed more focused on developing a broader set of intellectual and analytical tools and less towards simply learning tools to help you land a job on the Hill or in consulting. Essentially it seemed to be more of an academic and intellectual as opposed to pre-professional major.”
I think Zhao identifies that the tension between choosing between the majors actually represents a microcosm of a broader tension at Duke: What does “knowledge in the service of society” actually mean? Does it mean learning how to think critically and analytically so one is ready and inclined to go out into the world to solve problems and, hopefully, help others? Or does it mean applying those skills, immediately and less abstractly? These conceptions aren’t mutually exclusive, but in my entirely non-random and non-scientific sample of majors in both disciplines, students consistently cited this dichotomy.
I don’t think the political science department’s areas for improvement are at the core, but rather at the periphery. I’ve tremendously enjoyed the classes and professors in my concentration, international relations, and the speakers that the American Grand Strategy program has brought. But the moment in which I became cynical was sophomore year. I had taken two of the most challenging courses of my Duke career with an engaging, innovative professor who had both a remarkable teaching style and original theories and research. Although I can’t say for sure that there weren’t legitimate reasons to not give him tenure (the process is wildly non-transparent), I can say with some confidence that the decision to not grant him tenure was based not on his research output, but on a University-level decision to put fewer resources into the political science department.
Beyond the resources issue, the department needs to do a better job advising students on why they’re political science majors, and what that means for their time at Duke. As Dawei Liu (Trinity ’14) wrote in an email, “I would still highly appreciate good advisors who could lay out a more coherent enrollment path.” Though public policy classes are increasingly hard to get into because of popularity, and fulfilling the numerous requirements seem onerous, political science could help its majors with sequencing their classes in a more intentional manner.
Public policy, on the other hand, has what Hannah Colton (Trinity ’13), a fellow Chronicle columnist, calls an “attitude problem:” “It’s currently Duke’s most popular major, but maybe not for the right reasons? There’s a lingering perception among some people (both in and outside of the major) that public policy is a ‘default’ major, a generic fallback, rather than a deliberate choice.” Colton identifies a “loud minority,” of students who “carry out the major apathetically or skeptically, creating a collective attitude that negatively affected the academic atmosphere in all of the public policy core courses I took, despite great professors.”
Yet the public policy department has what, arguably, political science needs the most: a centralized space for staff, students and faculty. Every time I walk into the Sanford School I’m struck by the power of the space: Real interactions between students occur right before my eyes as I buy a delicious peanut butter cookie from the deli and head to class. The experience of walking down (usually deserted) hallways in Perkins to meet with a professor is simply not the same. In the same interview, Zhao identified “the lack of interest and cohesion of [political science] undergraduates.” This community aspect will hopefully improve next year as the department moves to its own space in the Gross Chemistry building.
Two of my roommates use public-policy-y phrases like “decreasing marginal returns,” and “Pareto efficiency,” when talking about unrelated subjects, such as their sexual histories. Of course this is a silly example, but I think it represents an enthusiasm gap between the majors. I wish I were more excited about how I’ve learned what I’ve learned.
Zhao, who is also editor-in-chief of the Duke Political Science Standard, also noted, “It has been really hard to find quality undergraduate research coming from the [political science] department. Empirically fewer and fewer people are writing senior theses even though the department has continually made it easier to do so.” Perhaps an increased sense of community and more academic guidance would make more undergraduates want to do research, which ultimately is the real strength of the department as a whole.
Samantha Lachman is a Trinity senior.
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