APA Newsletters
Fall 1999
Volume 99, Number 1

Articles

From the Fall 1999 Newsletter Guest Editor

Cressida J. Heyes
University of Alberta

I. Feminist Philosophy and Backlash

Much of this issue of the APA Newsletter on Feminism and Philosophy focuses on what many perceive to be a "backlash" against the advancement of feminist scholars and scholarship in philosophy departments. Speaking to colleagues in the discipline across North America, I (and the contributors to this issue) have concluded that feminist philosophers are currently experiencing extraordinary opposition to our scholarship, teaching, and political activity within universities. This opposition can be read as a reaction against the growth of feminist philosophy, the success of feminist philosophers, and the political changes effected by feminist agitators in the discipline; thus it might be seen as a mark of our achievements. Whatever the extent of these victories, however, they are never uncontested. The agents of backlash are sometimes individuals—male philosophers threatened by political theories that portray them in an unflattering light, for example. Sometimes institutions act out backlash collectively: for example, some feminists have argued that the "glass ceiling"—a term coined to describe limits on women’s advancement in the corporate world—exists in philosophy, too. Whether these antagonisms actually constitute a backlash depends, of course, on how much progress one believes has been made, and how bad things used to be. In this issue, Ann Cudd argues that certain reactions to feminist philosophy do indeed meet her criteria for backlash, which "decent people should resist."

However the debates about backlash develop, I would argue that there is a shortage of adequate forums for feminist philosophers to express disquiet with the political climate we encounter. Often neither existing mainstream analysis of the "state of the discipline," nor, ironically, progressive conversation seems adequately to capture the experiences of many feminists. Despite obvious changes in the representation of feminist philosophy in terms of faculty and curricula (i.e., it used not to be represented at all; now most departments have one faculty member professing some knowledge of feminism, and one course on the books), feminist philosophy continues to be a highly contested enterprise. Nor are these contestations ancient history, fought by an old guard of Second Wave feminists against the "bulge hire" male professoriate. Junior feminists in graduate school and pretenure continue to face marked hostility to our work and existence in the discipline, while many of our younger antifeminist colleagues participate actively in ostracizing and marginalizing us.

The dominant understanding of the state of feminist philosophy comes in two versions. First, the conservative (or, at best, skeptical) version argues that feminist scholarship (and feminists themselves) are taking over the academy, adulterating with fashionable but vacuous political claims the quality scholarship that had hitherto prevailed. Such attacks on feminism (and multiculturalism, critical race theory, queer theory, postcolonial philosophy, cultural studies, and that catchall straw person "postmodernism") construct diverse areas of study as irremediably damaging to traditional (read: western, mostly analytic, canonical, "what-we-do") philosophy. These constructions assert that feminist philosophy is devoid of substantive and rigorously argued theses, entirely divorced from the "core" areas of philosophy, preoccupied with political practice and social justice to the detriment of its objectivity and hence intellectual quality, and engaged in only by those with personal axes to grind, intent on appropriating pure scholarship to advance their own agendas in "identity politics" (another favored catchall). The crowning claim for such conservatives is often simply that "this isn’t (real) philosophy." If this is the scholarship, the scholars are thus concomitantly read as intellectually narrow and ill-equipped, self-interested and hopelessly "biased," and dogmatically ideological with no standards for quality work or education. It follows that we are "not (real) philosophers." Of course, when radical scholars are women, such claims mesh neatly with sexist beliefs that have long and dishonorable histories: this culture commonly understands women as excessively concerned with the parochial and personal, incapable of seeing the "big picture," and as overly self-interested and subjective, unable to exercise our rationality to attain intellectual objectivity. Feminist scholars have argued vigorously against these constructions on many levels, although it’s far from clear that we are winning the fight in debates about U.S. higher education.

The second dominant account of the state of feminist philosophy shares with conservatives the assumptions that feminism has made significant inroads into the discipline, and that feminist philosophers have gained a measure of control and influence. This friendlier version, however, understands such developments as progressive. The increasing numbers of scholars working in feminist philosophy, of courses taught, of graduate students emerging with novel specializations, or of the quantity and quality of publishing in the field indicate a measure of success. This optimistic view sees many battles against sexism in philosophy—and academia more generally—as having been won. The inexorable march of progress makes each step easier than the last, and creates better conditions for each subsequent generation.

Associated with this perspective is the tendency to see ongoing resistance to feminism and other branches of radical scholarship as failures of education. Construing most academics as well intentioned and fundamentally open to new ideas, "progressivists" argue that ignorance and skepticism can be overcome by intellectual conversation, the spread of feminist knowledge, and the presence of feminists to provide these things. Dialogue among feminist and extrafeminist scholars is certainly important. However, while I and the contributors to this issue could point to moments of truth in this account, we all question its panglossian cast.

II. Theorizing Experience

These dissonances also become more intense when we must contend with antifeminist hostility against which we cannot afford overtly to defend ourselves. There is a complex set of disincentives to reporting our experiences, marked by minimizing tactics, double binds, and fear of reprisal. As Hall mentions, if we have junior positions, we are expected to be happy and grateful to have them at a time when the job market is very bad, even if our jobs are inequitably paid, exploitive, overloaded or insecure. If we are looking for jobs, no retellings of misogynist interview questions, harassment on a campus visit, or ill-informed inquiries about feminist research will quell the clamor of male voices telling us that we are (unfairly) benefiting from affirmative action. Even those feminists who hold senior appointments are often presumed to have "made it" to positions of unproblematic privilege and acclaim.

Other skeptical responses similarly inhibit feminist testimony: if we point to "minor" irritations in our professional lives, we may be told by colleagues that we are exaggerating or overreacting, or that things have improved greatly for feminist philosophers and we therefore should not complain. We may be chided that other departments or universities are worse than our own, or that our male colleagues "aren’t that bad" or "mean well." If we raise serious issues of discrimination, we are likely to face ostracism and censure for rocking the institutional boat. We may be punished by means ranging from cruel gossip to denial of tenure. If we complain that our male colleagues have harassed, assaulted, exploited, or demeaned us, we will be perceived as dangerously uncollegial. If we try to socialize with male colleagues, we may be read as flirtatious, or a convenient source of emotional labor. If our few female colleagues are antifeminist or male-identified, we may have to struggle to form alliances with people who are fundamentally hostile to our politics, and who gain plentiful reinforcement and support for undermining us. By testifying to injustice, feminists of color risk reinforcing their position as racial outsiders in white dominant institutions. Women who resist heteronormativity can make straight, conventionally partnered colleagues nervous. Evidently, I could continue. These chilling responses not only inhibit the sharing of experience, they also deny the reality of our conditions as feminist philosophers.

III. Arenas of Backlash

What are these conditions? Let me briefly outline four particular areas of concern, where backlash seems to me to be particularly powerful, and more systematic inquiry and resistance necessary. First, Cudd observes that students are increasingly resistant to feminist teaching: "while the students I taught ten or so years ago were either on the Left politically or at least curious and interested in feminism and generally respectful of me, now when I teach feminist perspectives on classical issues in my large intro class, a small but noticeable number of them walk out." Superson argues that students’ sexist beliefs and attitudes toward women teachers severely curtail the fairness and usefulness of student evaluations. Women teachers, especially teachers of feminism, must struggle with role conflict, stereotyping, and challenges to our authority that not only create difficulties in the classroom, but also translate into evaluations that do not accurately reflect the quality of women’s teaching practice. Certain forms of negative evaluation stem from attempts to punish women for gender nonconformity (including simply "being a professor"). On the other hand, those women teachers who do conform to gender roles risk punitive evaluations for failing to exhibit the masculine traits associated with professorial competence. Thus women teachers face a classic double bind. To the extent that students are increasingly hostile, or feminist teachers are increasingly a priori characterized by colleagues as easy (or harsh) graders, insufficiently (or excessively) authoritative, "trendy" rather than rigorous, and not doing "real philosophy," backlash attitudes devalue our teaching.

A final locus of backlash is philosophy’s dominant response to feminist scholarship. Cudd notes that top journals continue to resist publishing feminist work, and that feminist scholarship is squeezed out into "special interest" journals that are then characterized as less prestigious and less philosophical. The impact of feminist philosophy on the mainstream of the discipline is minimized or ignored, enabling the claim that feminism is "peripheral." This view may in turn be used to justify opposition to feminist curriculum reform or hiring ("we don’t need a feminist course; we should be teaching more metaphysics!"). Ridden with false dichotomies, this position conveniently ignores the impact of feminist thought on even the most traditional areas of philosophy, and creates narrowly demarcated ghettos for feminist intellectual activity. Paradoxically, this position is often most avidly championed by philosophers who know next to nothing about feminism. Deciding a priori that feminism has nothing to say with regard to their own intellectual endeavors, academics in positions of power exhibit willful ignorance about feminist philosophy that has other chilling consequences.

One of the most disappointing of these is what I call the "reinventing the wheel" effect. Recently I gave a feminist paper to a general philosophical audience. Early in the question period a man asked: "Men are also limited by gender roles: for example, men are criticized for crying publicly. Aren’t men oppressed?" I explained that while certain men are arguably the victims of oppression—on the basis of their race or class, for example—no feminist could sustain the view that men as a social group are systematically disadvantaged by gender roles under patriarchy, and thus indeed that the very basic concept of oppression precludes this. Not incidentally, my paper did not even touch on this question. Another questioner, and another, picked up the thread. I found myself giving what I considered to be an explanation of basic concepts suitable for the first week of an introductory feminist theory class.

This experience has struck a chord for many of my feminist peers. It illustrates two dynamics: first, feminist scholars are seldom offered a space to argue through and defend our scholarship outside exclusively feminist contexts. We are perpetually reinventing the wheel for the very audiences most likely to deny the depth and sophistication of our ideas. Would it be acceptable to ask an equivalent question in an epistemology colloquium (perhaps, "What is this notion of justified true belief you keep talking about? What does that have to do with knowledge?")? Second, the pervasiveness of ignorance about feminist thought, I think, speaks against the view that educative efforts alone can bring feminist philosophy into the intellectual mainstream. The questioners in this example were all longtime colleagues of a philosopher who, over twenty years ago, wrote a germinal and widely reprinted feminist article on oppression that explicitly debunks the notion that "men are oppressed by gender too." Even the most minimal interest in her work, or slightest, most cursory concern for feminist scholarship would have led them to this essay. This ignorance, then, can only be read as willful. These are not well-intentioned people, for surely a good intention, to count as good, must at some point lead to action. Thus both passive neglect and active criticism serve to marginalize feminist scholarship without engaging its philosophical quality, and too often prevent feminist scholars from flourishing to the extent of our merits.

* * *

When presented together, these phenomena are deeply disquieting. Much as I would like to believe the progressivist vision of the steady march of feminism into philosophy, I believe that there is a great deal of bad faith and resurgent hostility. The themes covered in the following four papers, unfortunately, do not exhaust the scope of backlash, nor have we yet fully theorized its causes or effects. How can backlash be resisted? Whatever feminist political interventions may eventually succeed, they must be informed by careful listening to the experiences of women in philosophy. Not all of these experiences are of hostile or punitive treatment, and I recognize the need to be cautious about generalizing from the narratives and analyses offered here. Furthermore, in many ways all academics are privileged. Our work environments offer relative autonomy, summers for writing, some fascinating colleagues and eager students, a rare opportunity for intellectual conversation, and thus (in Collin’s phrase) "some of the least alienated labor available in a capitalist economy." If these rewards were not so apparent and so desirable, there would be little point in women struggling to gain power in philosophy in the first place. Only increasing the visibility of feminist struggle in philosophy departments, however, will make it possible to design adequate responses to backlash.

Hall touches on the thorny issue of conflict among feminists, asking in particular what senior feminists are doing to create space for more junior women. Certainly this is an area where there are mutual disappointments, and mutual triumphs. Some senior, tenured feminists may be in danger of being coopted by the institutions they set out to resist. Some junior women may dabble in feminism, exploiting whatever cachet it might have, without taking the political risks that their foremothers did. But ultimately the success of any resistance to backlash seems to depend on the amity and concord of feminist philosophers. As we work to make the progressivist vision real, we need to acknowledge both the individual and institutional barriers to its success, and the importance of feminist solidarity.