The Ugly Academics

On February 3rd, 2006 CNN.COM aired a video segment on the recently discovered Chinese world map, allegedly from the Qing Dynasty and was copied from a 1418 original. The segment, presented by reporter Tara Duffy, involved the usual cast of protagonists, namely, Gavin Menzies, Liu Gang, the discoverer of the map, and a couple of naysayers. In particular there was Matthew Edney, director of the History of Cartography Project at the University of Wisconsin. In the on-camera interview he said (about the Chinese who claimed the map to be genuine): “To try to argue that they have worth only as a way to beat the Europeans is to twist their culture.” This is a very odd statement indeed. To suggest that the Chinese would go to such an extreme, in this case, to forge an ancient map, just so that they could claim superiority over the Europeans, which in itself further implies that the Chinese are so down-trodden that they are inferior to Europeans in every other respect, smacks of bigotry of a very ugly kind. I can only hope that my interpretation of Mr. Edney’s remark is way off base, and that the statement (spoken in one single camera take) had been edited completely out of context; otherwise it is a sad episode in an otherwise legitimate, ongoing scientific investigation.

In April, 2005 the Waldseemueller world map was auctioned off for more than $1,000,000. The map was hailed to be one of the most significant antique maps that existed because it showed a partial American continent before Europeans had surveyed the place. Europeans could draw maps of places they had not been to, but that must be because they had superior qualities. When an allegedly antique map by the Chinese is discovered, it is automatically branded as the result of inferiority complex. The logic is baffling.

Sadder still, this is not the first case of its kind. Since the matter of early (read: pre-European) Chinese circumnavigation of the globe was broached in 2003 by Gavin Menzies, academe has repeatedly raised an ugly head, and in virtually all cases, unnecessarily. These cases are too numerous to be cited individually. You can find them by searching the Internet. An example would be a posting by K. M. Lawson on January 17th, in which he said:

…there is a great review of the Menzies work in the Journal of the History of Ideas,1 if I remember (can’t remember the issue) which gives a blow by blow attack from the perspective of a professional historian of Ming exploration. I remember the review left me with absolutely no doubt that the book is not only wrong in its thesis but the author guilty of massive intellectual dishonesty.

I suppose in a society that promotes free speech, drawing cartoons ridiculing Islamic prophets is OK, but propounding a scientific theory that is to the dislike of Western orthodoxy is intellectual dishonesty.

To accuse someone of “intellectual dishonesty” calls for some substantive evidentiary backing. The emotional expression therefore clearly harbors some sort of personal enmity, which has been expressed more than once by ranking scholars. A prominent professor from a leading Northern California institution actually admitted that he “hated these people,” which, in reference to Menzies, who also has been accused of falsifying genetic evidence, means “amateur historians.”

What is this anathema against amateur historians? What is an “amateur historian” anyway?

On its face, an amateur historian is one who indulges in the discipline of history without having a proper education in it, or put another way, without holding an academic degree in it; that is, not having gone to school to study history specifically as does a “professional historian.” It thus follows that the opinions of an “amateur historian” can be expected to be less on the mark than those of a “professional" historian. Generally true as that may be, the dictum applies to general cases only. Exceptions to the general rule abound. A musician or painter who is gifted often performs better than a trained one should the latter be, unfortunately, less endowed naturally. Charles Ives, the great American composer, wrote music in a way that no school would teach. Thomas Edison virtually taught himself everything he used in his inventions. Michael Ventris who deciphered the ancient Linear B language basically succeeded because of his innate talent. Heinrich Schliemann who supposedly discovered ancient Troy never had a lesson in archeology—he invented the field!

Scientific endeavors are based on logic; reasoning and deductions. A formal training will certainly add to the probability of success, but it is not a prerequisite. Then again, who pronounced that a formalized or institutionalized course program is the only way to acquire knowledge? What statistical proof is there to suggest that degreed history professors had broken more grounds than knowledgeable self-taught historians? When it comes down to a specific scientific theory, whether it is right or wrong is determined by the soundness of the hypothesis, and the strength of argument and support evidence, not the degree of education of its champion. Sidestepping the issue at hand and attacking the theorizer instead is but a lowly attempt to discredit an academic subject by hoping that the lay onlooker is not smart enough to cut through the ruse. The academic doyens would stoop to tactics of personal attacks, smearing, false witness bearing, and when all fails, ostracizing.

In the current debate over the likelihood of the Ming Chinese circumnavigating the world and surveying it before the great European explorers the lack of professionalism has reached histrionic levels. Instead of focusing the discussion on the pertinent evidence and lines of reasoning, many participants in the discussion resort to hyperbole, misdirection, and even name-calling, the lowest form of scholarly dispute. Surprisingly, some of these ruffians are otherwise members of reputable academic institutions. By ignoring contrary researches, including the present one, these critics have forfeited their credentials as authorities, and by stooping to what amounts to yelling matches they have placed themselves in the same league as the Inquisition, which condemned Galileo.

To me, all this is still understandable if one accepts the motivation behind the juvenility. What is hard for me to comprehend is that many of these so-called “legitimate” historians are affiliated with prominent educational organizations. How these leading institutions permit their staff to behave in such undignified manners is unexplainable.

The Chinese have a set of cute descriptions for these agent provocateurs who cloak themselves with the mantle of academia but are in truth pseudo-scholars: si du shu, 死讀書 du si shu, 讀死書 du shu si, 讀書死. The first expression, si du shu, 死讀書, describes these people as perennial bookworms who know nothing else but read books; that is, incapable of rational thinking. The second phrase, du si shu, 讀死書, refers to those who study out-of-date books; that is, dead books; books that no longer apply. The implication is that they are utterly unaware that what they have learned are useless. The last expression, du shu si, 讀書死, says that all these people know to do is to hide in the comfort of academia—study until they die—receive secure and steady paychecks and never produce anything useful. In short, they are stuffy, inflexible and unproductive, impractical yet arrogant. Generally these Mandarin bookworms destroy more than they construct, criticize more than they contribute. 成事不足, 敗事有餘.

Westerners have a somewhat less gracious portrayal of these ersatz intellectuals. They say the modus operandi of these people resembles eating bananas; what they eat and what comes out are the same. There is no digestive process. I am trying to picture this.

Face the issues, fellow knowledge seekers. Discuss the merits. If the theory withstands scrutiny, let us congratulate the problem solver. Should the reverse claims the day, let the would-be luminary be the first to say: “I stand corrected.” Does such gallantry still exist? And I thought the days of Galileo have passed.

1 Actually the Journal of World History written by Robert Finlay

February 7, 2006, Anatole Andro