Neoliberalism and Positionality

Why is it so extremely difficult to resist neoliberal trends? The reader will undoubtedly recognize that this builds on what I foolishly considered to be a completed series of five posts.  As I recognize the err of my ways, I must also indicate that there is not an end in sight, in terms of neoliberal rants on my part. Many things changed while I was an undergraduate student at Ole Miss, but some of those changes had already begun; evidence: I enrolled at Ole Miss as a young man of 23. 

I had failed at my first college attempt in no small part because it was hinged to playing American Football; I had announced my extreme distaste at the lack of recognition I was receiving between the 11^th and 12^th years of high school. My personal declaration of independence, shared with a captive church-group-service audience in front of whom I was not bashful, was that henceforth, I “will not be attending the private academy any longer, and would instead transfer to the local public school, so that my capacities would be observed by a larger audience of sport-program recruiters.” 

I was unable to follow through with that, because I was still living with and employed by my father; ‘Pop’ built the school from which I wished to depart, literally. I concluded that senior year in place and by the time of commencement had been recruited by more than my fair share of quality programs.  I had choices, moreso than most of my fellow athletes because the scores on my standardized tests attracted at least the same attention as did my sufficient talents on the gridiron.  As I communicated with recruiters I was promoting my aptitudes.  I was choosing between the highest bidders. I was testing the market. 

I wasn’t ready, I had no idea what to do at college, and I turned within only, rather than asking for external help.  I left campus and returned to work (marketing my proficiency as a welder) until five years passed and then I had a disabling accident.  During the processes of physical recovery there were some cultural and in-group shifts that presented challenges to my worldview. Enrolling at Ole Miss in a wheelchair was not the original plan, but I arrived on campus eager to become different.

I am married to a wonderful person. We are not considered to be from the same race according to societal categorization. I knew and still know that some of my family members and friends from my small-town past (would and do) think this is wrong. They believe I am sinful. I believed what I was doing was sinful for many years, but I chose to reject fear and anxiety of the assured consequences. I talked to friends who were in similar situations. It was not considered to be an easy journey by anyone with experience.  Why did I change?

The search for that answer has led me to this point in my research on another topic.  It is often incredibly enlightening to look at the way I organize my folders (years ago in hanging-folders, but I’m talking about virtual, electronic folders today) and imagine the cross-pollination that occurs between two or more research categories. One such salient intersection is where the affective learning domain (that’s learning in the part of the human brain that moderates emotions, attitudes, and what we think of when we think of virtues or values) overlaps with neoliberalism. To resist neoliberalism, we need to actively develop that area of the brain/mind so that we learn to make decisions that are not good for only us[1]. Neurobiologically, we do not have more than 2-3 values encoded into what was generally known as the limbic system. Those may be transitory as our in-group changes or evolves; culture therefore is the haze surrounding everything else you see in this model.

In graduate school I did not complete my first dissertation.  I defended the proposal. I had Dr. Sternberg’s permission to potentially validate his instrument which assessed the Triarchic Mind. I had a robust committee including a radical educator, a Widespread-groupie sociologist, and a research-design expert from the field of experimental psychology.  I researched and learned a lot about emotions, attitudes, and what we call virtues or values. I planned to wire people to lie-detection machines as they completed the tests and answered (interviews/online questionnaire) my questions. That study never was completed. The reasons are documented elsewhere, but I chose eventually to move on and away. However, the beginnings of this model[2] had taken shape in my field notes.

I ended up in China; I found a new committee, began a new topic, and completed that new dissertation. I funded my dissertation study by working as a consultant; this mental model under which I am operating applies to both organizational behavior and individual behavior.  I tweaked the model over years of OD and HRD consulting as a practitioner before I was paid to do any purely intellectual work. Neoliberalism was not the focus of my completed PhD study, but it was a recurring theme traversing nearly every topic I researched while completing that study. I had more pages of notes on this construct than pages of completed dissertation.  I thought then, that in some strange, twisted way whatever made neoliberalism acceptable to society had commonalities with whatever it was that had changed my individual mindset about race. 

[1] I am using the term “us” but any time I am faced with a decision between good and better, “us” can also represent “me”. What I am really getting at here is what most of you reading this would associate with the opposite of altruistic behavior. I cannot categorize that as ‘being selfish’ and still elicit the emotional response I want in you, the reader; societal values have shifted to the point that being selfish is also a virtue. My point is that to make a decision that is good for more people than only me and may at the same time decrease my immediate—whether short-lived or long-term is not critical—societal-perceived pecuniary standing, I must engage learning in the affective domain, and that is regulated by a—cognition and all that entails is processed elsewhere—separate sphere of the brain.

[2] I am not an artist nor a designer of graphical models. This represents a well. At the top of the well is what everybody sees. The well is deep, extremely deep; think ‘Batman falling into a well of bats’ deep. The hazy green represents culture.

I continue to dabble with these notions. 

In terms of positionality, I am an accomplished intellectual[1]. I want to be able to learn enough about what catalyzed my change of heart to be able to teach that.

But I am not a role model for resisting neoliberalism. I continually promote and increase my perceived market value. This has been embedded into my life as a choice between good and more good, a choice always exists between better and more better.  As far back as I have traced what we are calling neoliberal trends I have only found one example of a scholar that might have publicly, openly resisted: Thorstein Veblen.  I am sure after I have completed at least three more of his works (I referenced five, later in this post), I will have attained more insight and will likely share some of that here in this series of posts. I certainly hope I find more examples of resistance that ended on higher notes than did his.

Crucially, the functional human mind/brain has no regulatory system which mediates our thoughts and the resulting behavior, other than affect.  Neoliberalism at its heart is deregulation.  

If I can distill this neoliberal phenomenon into one point it is this: non-regulated decisions have led to deregulated policies. The only way to address this is to begin to (internally) regulate decision-making.

[1] C. Wright Mills described intellectuals as people who are pretty well educated and who spend their time using that education in talking and writing, and sometimes thinking, about various problems. They are always trying to find problems, and the problems they deal with do not have to be “theirs”( p. 25).

What happens—neurobiologically—when a choice exists in the realm of good-to-better is illuminating.  Humans are not wired to make altruistic decisions. There are perhaps two, maybe three transparent images of values that may subsist in the regional area of the amygdala. They are far, far away from the processes of decision-making. Deciding between a good and a better is intoxicating, as it produces serotonin. Making choices that benefit only me is addictive.

Added to our biological responses is a constant barrage of marketing and messaging that reinforces choices based on consumption and demonstrative worth. Veblen said (in 1899) that conspicuous consumption was regarded as evidence of mundane decency. These messages are designed and are delivered based on principles that were defined as the military began to sponsor research (at prestigious universities) into how the mind works with respect to making choices. This research led to the founding of schools of communications at universities everywhere in the United States. All of this is documented in Simpson’s (2015) work, referenced later in this post.

Evidenced by MRI studies, affect soldiers on and tries to mediate our decision-making. Neurobiological collisions ensue, as affect wants us to remember how to play nicely.

Krathwohl, Bloom, and Masia had the right ideas as they defined the affective learning domain. They were not privvy to the neurobiological forces at play, but we should be, today. As educators, are we exercising our affective muscles?  I think not. Are we developing affective domain learning in our students?  Sadly, only a few[1] are attempting this. As a result, we are unable to retrieve what we need.

Continuing to ignore human development of the affective learning domain is akin to storing the rope and bucket with which we draw water from the well in a locked shed and hiding the key in the last place we’d remember to look.

[1] Affective domain learning outcomes have been implemented in communications programs and health-science programs. Research colleagues and I have upcoming publications detailing how we are implementing and assessing affective domain learning outcomes in an online doctoral program.