a conversation about civics in Chinese traditions

On December 10, the Alliance for Civics in the Academy hosted a webinar on “Comparative Civics: Beyond Western Civ” with Fordham professor Dongxian Jiang, University of Chicago professor Shadi Bartsch, Nanyang Technical University professor Simon Sihang Luo, and University of Chicago student Jessie Wang. I was the moderator.

The title of the event suggests our original plan, which was to think about the role of “non-Western” texts and ideas (whatever the word “Western” means) in civic education. As it turned out, our panel had the expertise and lived experience to focus on China. Clearly, we could have chosen many other foci, but I thought this one was useful–it made for a coherent conversation. We discussed what “civic education” has meant in China, what American students can learn from studying Chinese society and classical texts, how Confucian thinkers might assess American civic education, what you should know to teach Chinese texts well, and other topics that may also apply (mutatis mutandis) to other countries and regions of the world.

The video is below.

The next ACA webinar will be “Beyond the Ivory Tower: What Elite and Non-Selective Colleges Can Teach Each Other About Civics” with Thomas Schnaubelt, J. Cherie Strachan, Scott Arcenas, and Josiah Ober on January 14, 2026, from 9:00-10:00 a.m. PT.

See also core curricula without the concept of the West; the history of the phrase “the West”, etc.

The Way of Skepticism

Here is a pitch for a book that I have finished drafting, with the title The Way of Skepticism:

In 2025, I was invited to give philosophy lectures in Kyiv, Ukraine (on the day of the third-worst bombardment in the war so far) and then at two Palestinian universities in the occupied West Bank. In both settings, I spoke as a philosopher and essentially made the following argument:

There are no answers to questions that have sometimes been thought to provide a basis for overall happiness, such as “What is the purpose of human life?”

You might expect that someone who teaches or writes about philosophy will offer ideas that you should believe. Famous philosophers and religious traditions have recommended various beliefs as the foundations of a happy life.

But beliefs are easily overrated, especially when we use them to assess a person’s authority or character. A strong attachment to beliefs can distort judgment, inhibit listening, and substitute for action. Disagreement about beliefs produces unnecessary distress and hostility. On the other hand, suspending the search for such truths can bring valuable relief if we renounce the pursuit in a wise way.

We can experience good things, such as pleasure and justice. These experiences are real enough, but there is no reason to presume that they fit neatly together, so that (for example) being fair to others will surely bring inner peace.

Paying close attention to particular people and animals, both oneself and others, reinforces skepticism about general matters, such as the purpose or the nature of life, by reminding us how different everything must seem to creatures who have different bodies and who experience different circumstances.

A focus on individual people and animals also encourages compassion for them. Genuine compassion spurs action on their behalf. And a life infused with compassion and beneficial action is better than one without those things, although it does not guarantee happiness.

There is an important difference between fact and error. Valuable information can be discovered, stored, shared, and revised collectively and can guide action. The problem is not knowledge (a social good) but individuals’ adherence to beliefs.

Skepticism does not imply that reality is only what can be empirically observed. Human understanding is limited, and reality exceeds what our minds can grasp. Skepticism can coexist with religious faith. It is not a theory of reality but a practical way for finite, fallible beings to navigate a world of suffering.

Skepticism about beliefs does not imply moral relativism. We make good and bad decisions. Ethical responsibility arises most powerfully in face-to-face encounters with other people. Being present with others creates moral demands. Decisions to act or to be present should arise from invitations and relationships. We should be committed to people (and animals), not to beliefs.

My lectures had mixed success, for reasons that I discuss in the manuscript. In neither setting would it have been appropriate for me to share a much longer argument. In the book, I offer more detail.

First, I ground the general points summarized above in a rich intellectual tradition. This tradition begins with the ancient Skeptical School (represented by Pyrrho of Ellis and Sextus Empiricus). Their arguments were intriguingly similar to portions of the classical Buddhist Pali Canon, which I also interpret and discuss.

Renaissance authors rediscovered Sextus’ work, and Michel de Montaigne developed a version of Greek Skepticism while drawing on other sources and adding his own insights. Montaigne did not know anything about Buddhism, but his commitment to compassion made his form of Skepticism resemble the Pali Canon as much as it resembled Sextus. Montaigne’s Essays suggested Skeptical themes to Shakespeare, which echo in John Keats and several modern authors for whom either Montaigne or Shakespeare have been touchstones.

I believe that my position benefits from close readings of Montaigne and some of his predecessors and influences, because these thinkers are complex and persuasive.

Second, the ancient Skeptics did not simply offer arguments in favor of Skepticism. (In fact, as they acknowledged, an argument against belief would risk self-contradiction). More usefully, they practiced and taught methods or meditative exercises that could reduce our level of belief in beneficial ways. Sextus offers several lists of these “modes” (the standard translation of his word for such methods), reaching a maximum of 10 in one text. Montaigne practices some of Sextus’ modes and discusses other ways that he has pursued equanimity.

In modern European authors and in some Mahayana Buddhist texts, I have found mental exercises that are fundamentally consistent with ancient Skepticism but more appropriate for our period. The bulk of my manuscript presents ten such modern Skeptical “modes”:

  1. Don’t strive to be original but think vividly. This method involves acknowledging that our best beliefs are often clichés (which is a specifically modern complaint). Seeing a belief as a cliché reduces our attachment to it without making us negate it.
  2. Adjust your relationship with the past and the future. This method involves identifying problematic mental states, such as dread and nostalgia, that depend on beliefs about time that we can challenge.
  3. Learn from shifting moods. Sextus and Montaigne try to shake our commitment to beliefs by showing that they depend on the mood that we happen to be in. Science offers methods that are supposed to combat all form of subjective bias, including moods; however, science cannot reveal what is good or right. Drawing on Heidegger, I argue that we can derive specific insights from each mood (because it is one way for us to be in the world), while also loosening our commitment to the beliefs associated with any given mood.
  4. Appreciate being oneself. Montaigne is a great student of his own experience, a phenomenologist before that word was coined. He gains happiness from this exploration. (“There is no description so hard, nor so profitable, as the description of a man’s own self.”) The goal of Do-It-Yourself phenomenology is not to discover general truths that will make us happy or better once we believe in them. Instead, DIY phenomenology can reveal complexities, mysteries, and depths that we can appreciate. By seeing ourselves as much more than suffering machines, we can increase how much we can enjoy being ourselves.
  5. Consider the boundaries of experience. Sextus and Montaigne emphasize that the world that we consider objective is actually contingent on whatever senses, values, and reasoning powers we happen to have. A different creature must inhabit a different world. The Zen master Hakuin Ekaku (1686-1769), William Blake, and the young Ludwig Wittgenstein derived consolation from realizing that the world infinitely exceeds our capacity to know it; and we can learn from them.
  6. Don’t try to be perfect but appreciate the turn toward it. Let’s define a “sublime” experience as something far better than our usual life. From a classical Skeptical perspective, sublime experiences are neither true (revealing that the world is really better than it seems) nor false (as if we merely imposed our wishes on reality). Sublime experiences are simply experiences among others, but they are much more enjoyable. Therefore, we should seek them out.
  7. Recognize others in sublime experiences:Many modern views of the sublime are highly individualistic. They assume that anything of spiritual value must be timeless and can be appreciated by a lone individual who is in the right frame of mind. But we always learn what to value from other people, both living and dead. A sublime experience depends on the particular people who have influenced its creator and its audiences. This is a Skeptical point, suggesting that we would find different things beautiful and moving if we had different backgrounds. But it also gives us an opportunity to be grateful to the people who have shaped our values, and this gratitude can deepen our sublime experiences.
  8. Do things for their own sake. Many authors and even whole traditions offer the same valid advice: focus on doing the right thing, not on whether it has the intended outcomes. Derive satisfaction from the act, not its goal. I justify this advice in a Skeptical way and turn it into a “mode.” First try to identify morally good actions and then view them as intrinsically valuable ways of being, not as means to any end.
  9. Be compassionate (not sympathetic). Montaigne is a great proponent and exemplar of compassion. Properly understood, compassion is not a mirroring of someone else’s emotions, so that if they are angry, we must also feel anger. It is a specific emotion that can be positive (or at least calm) and must result in action. I draw on Buddhist texts and Emmanuel Levinas to present a view of compassion that is compatible with Skepticism.
  10. Decide what to do in conversation. Perhaps the most serious criticism of Skepticism is that it may discourage action. If we have no beliefs, then why should we do anything? Yet many people suffer, and we should help them. As Sextus and Montaigne emphasize, we have limited intellectual capacities and unreliable motives. Besides, as individuals, we cannot accomplish much. To put it bluntly, we are both stupid and weak. But we do have other people around us. By listening, talking, and working with others and reflecting on the results, we can make ourselves at least a bit wiser and stronger. Even when a group errs, we are at least in solidarity with the other members.

We live in a period of polarization and conflict, including several cruel wars. These challenges have political causes and require political solutions. Becoming a Skeptic is not a solution to such problems, but it is a way for an individual to navigate our current world with a dose of sanity and responsibility.

This book is also an argument for practicing the humanities–the disciplines that interpret human culture–to improve one’s inner life and one’s relationships with other human beings and animals. Reading for pleasure is in decline. The academic humanities are under political attack for being (allegedly) leftwing and economically unprofitable. And reading and writing risk being replaced by artificial intelligence. This book argues that engagement with texts can improve the inner life, but it also justifies other modes, including ones that require no texts.

(Revised for clarity on 1/7.) See also: three takes on the good life: Aristotle, Buddha, Montaigne; consider the octopus; does skepticism promote a tranquil mind?; notes from the West Bank; etc.

strategies for boycotts

Here is an excerpt from Steve Dubb’s article, “On Boycotts and Blackouts, Mobilizing and Organizing: Understanding the Basics” in Nonprofit Quarterly (Dec. 15).


Peter Levine, political science and philosophy professor at Tufts University, writing after the February 28 single-day general boycott, outlined the conditions that enable targeted boycotts to succeed:

  1. A goal: what the boycott aims to achieve.
  2. A target: a decision-maker who is capable of doing something relevant to the goal.
  3. A demand: something that the target could agree to do.
  4. A cost: something that the target will lose if they don’t meet the demand.
  5. Negotiators: individuals who can credibly agree to stop the boycott if the target complies sufficiently.
  6. A message: a description of the boycott that is aimed at relevant third parties, such as observers who are undecided about the issue.
  7. Accountable leaders: people who decide on the previous six points and are answerable to those who actually boycott.

Although Levine does not raise this point, it is often the case that boycotts are most effective when connected to a broader movement, such as an alliance with unions. For instance, the grape boycott of 1965–1970 was linked to labor organizing among farm workers. Similarly, the current call for consumers to boycott Starbucks is linked to a campaign by workers from within to achieve union contracts for baristas.

So, why would anyone organize a general boycott or “buy nothing day,” which has hardly any of the features of targeted boycotts? Levine, for the record, mentions that he himself participated in the February 28 blackout, so he’s not disparaging general boycotts. It is simply that the goals of such actions should be understood differently.

General boycotts are less about seeking leverage to change policy, and more about spreading basic political education—like raising awareness that corporations do in fact dominate the US economy—as well as building at least the rudiments of a common sense among participants that they are part of a larger movement.

While buy nothing days are likely to be an inadequate means for directly affecting policy, they can certainly be a valuable form of outreach to large groups of people. And if there is appropriate post-event follow-up, they can begin to motivate people to build the deep person-to-person connections and organizational infrastructure necessary for sustained social change.

Organizing…involves building deep personal connections and an institutional infrastructure that sustains movement between peak mobilizational moments.


The rest of the article is also useful. For further reading, you could consider: The Montgomery Bus Boycott and The ISAIAH Trash Referendum from the SNF Agora Institute’s collection of Case Studies.

in praise of John Florio

I find myself nearly finished writing a book whose hero is Michel de Montaigne. In the manuscript, I quote him many times. I have read large swaths of his Essays in M.A. Screech’s translation, which is learned and reliable (and good English prose). I translate the passages that concern me most. But sometimes I also turn to John Florio’s 1603 translation, which was hugely influential. Shakespeare had the same publisher as Florio and drew heavily on Montaigne, probably using Florio’s translation.

Florio is not always as literal as I need for my purpose (closely reading Montaigne), but he is an excellent writer.

Consider, for example, a passage from “De Mesnager sa Volonté” (or “How one ought to governe his will” in Florio’s translation). I will first offer a summary, interpolating my own translations, and then show what Florio does with with the text.

The passage begins with Montaigne saying that he no longer wants to improve himself. “It’s almost better never to become an honest man than to do so so late, and certainly better to learn how to live when you no longer have a life to live. I, who am about to depart, would gladly pass on to someone who comes after me the lessons of prudence I’ve learned in dealing with the world. Mustard after dinner.”

He mentions the recent change to the Gregorian Calendar, a reform that has “eclipsed” ten days. He says that it depresses him, and he finds himself clinging to the old ways even though it makes him feel a bit like a heretic. He convinces himself that the reform is not for him but for those who will follow after he has died. He may keep “counting” the days as he has. He explains, “In short, here I am, finishing this man, not remaking another. Through long use, this form has passed into substance for me, and fortune into nature.”

I think Montaigne means both that the old calendar, which was a flawed human invention, has become a natural truth for him—and also that all the experiences that have accidentally turned him into Michel de Montaigne have become his substance and nature. “I say, therefore, that each of us, in our weakness, should be excused for considering as our own what is comprised within this measure. But also, beyond these limits, there is nothing but confusion.”

Now consider Florio’s version:

I will say this by way of example; that the eclipsing or abridging of tenne dayes, which the Pope hath lately caused, hath taken me so lowe, that I can hardly recover my selfe. I followe the yeares, wherein we were wont to compt otherwise. So long and ancient a custome doth chalenge and recall me to it againe. I am thereby enforced to be somewhat an heretike: Incapable of innovation, though corrective. My imagination maugre my teeth runnes still tenne dayes before, or tenne behinde; and whispers in mine eares: This rule toucheth those, which are to come. If health it selfe so sweetely-pleasing, comes to me but by fittes, it is rather to give mee cause of griefe, than possession of it selfe. I have no where left me to retire it. Time forsakes me; without which nothing is enjoyed. How small accompt should I make of these great elective dignities I see in the worlde, and which are onely given to men, ready to leave the world! wherein they regarde not so much how duelie they shall discharge them, as how little they shall exercise them: from the beginning they looke to the end. To conclude, I am ready to finish this man, not to make another. By long custome, this forme is changed into substance, and Fortune into Nature. I say therefore, that amongst us feeble creatures, each one is excusable to compt that his owne, which is comprehended under this measure. And yet all beyond these limites, is nothing but confusion.

Florio sees a theme here about “counting” and uses that verb (“compt” or “accompt”) three times. There is no similar echo in Montaigne’s French text, but this is a lovely way to convey the author’s argument.

Likewise, Florio’s “hath taken me so lowe, that I can hardly recover my selfe” allows him to foreshadow the discussion of Montaigne’s “self” that is coming soon, although the word is not in the original (“m’ont prins si bas que je ne m’en puis bonnement accoustrer.”)

Screech ably translates a sentence as “I grit my teeth [a modern idiom], but my mind is always ten days ahead or ten days behind; it keeps muttering in my ears” (p. 1143). However, Florio’s language is more pungent: “My imagination maugre my teeth runnes still tenne dayes before, or tenne behinde; and whispers in mine eares.”

See also: Montaigne’s equanimity; was Montaigne a relativist?; three takes on the good life: Aristotle, Buddha, Montaigne

why policy debates continue

I’m at Stanford today to discuss a paper, Policy Models as Networks of Beliefs. After circulating my draft, I realized that the following is really my argument. …

We use mental models to think about and discuss contested questions of policy. Worthy models typically have these features:

  1. They have many components, not just a few. A model might include a causal inference, such as “spending more on x produces better outcomes.” But those two components (the spending and the outcomes) must be part of a much larger model that also explains why certain outcomes are valuable, where the money would come from, what else effects the system, and so on.
  2. The components should be connected, and the resulting structure matters. Structures can take various forms (e.g., root-cause analysis, vicious cycles). There is no single best structure.
  3. Pieces of models may prove regular. For instance, maybe spending more on x regularly produces better outcomes, all else considered. But such regularities only apply to small aspects of good models. The science-like effort to find regularities can only get us so far.
  4. Some components of any worthy model should be values or normative claims. Some normative components have regular significance in all models. However, many value components change their significance depending on the context. Equality, for example, does not consistently mean the same thing and may not always be desirable.
  5. If a model proves influential, it can change the world, which can require a new model. For example, arguing that more money should be spent on X could cause more funds to be allocated to X, at which point it would no longer be wise to increase the funding. Models are dynamic in this sense.

I believe this account supports a pluralistic, polycentric, pragmatist, and deliberative approach to policymaking, as opposed to a positivistic one.

See also: choosing models that illuminate issues–on the logic of abduction in the social sciences and policy; different kinds of social models; social education as learning to improve models; etc.

trusting experts or ordinary people

The 2020 American National Election Survey asked, “Do you trust ordinary people or experts for public policy?’ Respondents could answer either or both. Overall, 42% chose both experts and ordinary people, 40% said experts, and 17% said ordinary people.

(By the way, I suppose I would answer “both,” although I have some concerns about trusting either experts or majority opinion.)

There was a partisan difference. A narrow majority (51%) of Democrats chose experts, and just 12% of Democrats said ordinary people. The largest group of Republicans (47%) said both, followed by ordinary people at 28%. Only 25% of Republicans chose experts.

When I controlled for education and age, partisanship was a significant predictor, meaning that Democrats were more likely than Republicans to trust experts, regardless of their own education and age. This is a meaningful difference between the parties.

The ANES also asked people to name their most important issue, using an open-ended question. The survey researchers assigned responses to many categories, most of which represented less than one percent of the sample. (For example, 0.2% of respondents named illegal drugs as their top issue.)

Among the more popular categories, there were some interesting differences in trust.

Seven percent of the sample chose the environment as their top issue, and of those people, 64% trusted experts while only 4% trusted ordinary people more. Apparently, environmentalists like expertise.

On the other hand, of the 1.8% who chose employment as their top issue, only 27% trusted experts more, and almost as many (23%) trusted ordinary people more. There are experts on employment (economists) but they do not seem to be trusted by the people who care most about this issue.

And for the 2% who chose the media as their top issue, experts came in last, behind ordinary people and “both.” This is a small group, but it seems that there are some critics of expertise who view the media as our main problem, perhaps because they distrust the experts whom they see in the news.

when every step is a competition

The numbers of jobs and college slots per capita have remained relatively stable over time, but the number of people who compete for each position has dramatically increased because markets for admissions and employment have grown (from local to national or global) and have become far more efficient. Nowadays, you can search online for jobs anywhere and click to apply.

Thus, for example:

  • As shown in the graph above (from Birinci, See & Wee for the St. Louis Fed), an unemployed person submitted a mode of 0 or 1 job applications per month in 1979-1980 (during a severe recession). In the 2010s, even though the unemployment rate was lower, the modal number of applications per job-seeker was more than 10 per month. Nowadays, about 2% of job applications result in an interview.
  • In 1995, 10% of college freshmen had applied for admission to seven or more institutions. By 2017, 36% had done so (source).
  • From the mid-1980s to the mid-2000s, the percentage of college graduates who had completed an internship rose from 10% to over 80%, probably because an internship now seems necessary to get a job (Scott Alexander, citing NACE.)

Alexander offers this pair of fictional portraits to illustrate this trend:

Brenda Boomer applied to a local business she liked at age 18. She got hired, worked her way up from the bottom, and by age 35 she was a regional manager making $50,000 per year.

Martha Millennial lost her adolescence to endless lessons in Mandarin, water polo, and competitive debate, all intended to pad her college resume; her only break was the three months she spent building houses in Rwanda to establish her social justice credentials. She eventually got accepted to Penn and earned a 4.2 in her college classes, despite having to complete several of them remotely from the Google campus where she was doing a simultaneous internship. After graduation, she applied to twenty-eight grad schools but was rejected from all of them, so she instead got two half-time jobs, one as a waitress and one at a startup that pitched itself as “Uber for humidifiers”. The humidifier startup failed, reducing her equity to $0, but she had only been in it for networking anyway, and by attending industry conferences every weekend she had collected the right contacts to get a warm introduction to the vice-president of their biggest competitor, “Uber for dehumidifiers”. She joined the dehumidifier startup, rose to associate manager, bumped up against a local ceiling (“we don’t promote from inside”), and successfully got herself poached by an air purifier startup, where at age 35 she was a regional manager making $50,001 per year.

With her “service” experience in Rwanda and her Penn degree, Martha sounds upper-middle-class. But I think we could envision a pair of working-class examples that illustrated the same trend. A low-SES Martha would apply for admission to a charter school, a slot in a summer jobs program, and an apprenticeship, not to an Ivy League university.

One might think that everything is fine for Martha. The actual odds of landing in any given social position have remained similar. With the unemployment rate at 4.4%, most people are still finding jobs. And US workers recently reported the highest mean levels of job satisfaction since they were first asked this survey question in 1987 (Conference Board 2023).

But I think the stress is very real. As a teacher and advisor of college students, I observe constant angst. Each application now generates many rejections, often with little or no feedback. Each position seems to require a different strategy, and each failure suggests that the student’s strategy must have been flawed.

Searching for educational opportunities and jobs is a substantial time commitment, a cost that may not be captured in standard economic indicators.

Finally, I think people reasonably draw negative inferences about the economy and the society from their experiences as applicants. Brenda Boomer and Martha Millennial ended up in similar jobs. But Martha competed unsuccessfully for many more opportunities than Brenda did. Almost inevitably, Martha will perceive a world of scarcity, in which desirable opportunities are out of her reach.

I wouldn’t try to persuade Martha that everything has worked out OK. She’s bound to ask, “Compared to what?” She has experienced constant comparisons to other people, some of whom have beaten her out for almost everything she has wanted to do. It’s reasonable for her to perceive a worse world than Brenda did, even if we hold all the other changes constant.

Sean Duffy’s flip-flop and the essence of constitutional government

ProPublica’s Jake Pearson has uncovered a contradiction involving Transportation Secretary Sean Duffy. Duffy has “been one of the most vociferous defenders of President Donald Trump’s expansive use of executive authority, withholding billions of dollars in federal funding to states.” However, “in an assertive, thoroughly researched 2015 legal brief, Duffy, then a Republican representative from Wisconsin,” argued that the power of the purse belonged exclusively to Congress, which may not even choose to delegate its power to the Executive.

I am deeply critical of the actual policy choices of the Trump Administration, in transportation and in other areas. Also, Duffy’s 180-degree turn on the Constitution makes me suspicious. Pearson quotes me:

Peter Levine, a civics expert at Tufts University, said that while it could be that Duffy’s views on presidential power have evolved over time, his apparent flip-flopping on something as fundamental as the meaning of the Constitution raises the prospect that Duffy may “just be playing a game for power.”

“The Constitution is a promise to continue to apply the same rules and norms over time to everybody,” he added. “When political actors completely ignore that, and just go after their own thing, I don’t think the Constitution can actually function.”

On one hand, we should tolerate changes in opinion. When a political leader adopts a new position, I don’t generally complain about “flip-flopping.” We want leaders to listen, deliberate, and learn. One of many ways in which our culture works against deliberation is by denouncing individuals for being inconsistent over time. Stubborn consistency is the hobgoblin of closed minds.

In fact, it can be an ad hominem fallacy to say, “You must be wrong because you previously held the opposite view.” In general, we should debate a position and the reasons for it, not the consistency of the speaker over time.

On the other hand, a constitution–in the broadest sense–is a pact to apply the same rules to everyone. Although constitutions vary, constitutionalism itself is the principle of limiting everyone’s power in the same way. To make a constitutional argument (as Duffy did explicitly in his 2015 amicus brief) is to say, “This rule should apply to me as well as my opponents.” When a person who wields power suddenly changes his mind about constitutional principles in ways that benefit himself, it certainly looks like a betrayal of constitutionalism. And any constitution is just a piece of paper unless most of the key players respect the principle of consistency–and unless voters demand that of them.

See also: the Constitution is crumbling; are we seeing the fatal flaw of a presidential constitution?; constitutional piety etc.

demystifying graduate education in the USA

On Sunday, I met with about 65 students at An-Najah National University in Nablus, the West Bank. For about two hours (until our time ran out), they asked me questions about how to pursue graduate education in North America or Europe. Our conversation helped me see that our system must seem mysterious and may be misleading. Here are some points that I found myself making which might be worth sharing with others. …

Generally, you should apply to a graduate program and seek financial aid, which can mean free tuition plus a stipend for a teaching or research assistantship. You should aim not to pay for a graduate degree in the social sciences, humanities, or natural sciences. An admission offer without a financial package is probably not desirable.

You could apply for scholarships in your field that can be used at any institution, but those are extremely competitive. You are much more likely to get support from the university where you enroll, and you should apply for admission even if you know that you couldn’t afford the tuition. You should expect a conversation/negotiation about financial aid.

If you aspire to a PhD, you should apply to a PhD program and receive an MA along the way. In general, you should not seek an MA in your field before applying for a PhD.

You should view MA programs with some skepticism unless they offer substantial financial aid. Professional masters degrees, such as MBAs and MPHs, may make more sense economically, since they can make you more competitive for desirable jobs. But even those require a careful cost/benefit analysis.

Yes, you can wait until after you have graduated with a BA to apply for graduate school. In fact, many programs prefer candidates who have several years of work experience. (This may be less true in the liberal arts than in fields like public policy and law.)

A lengthy graduate program is not worth the years of your life unless you think that you would enjoy those years. But graduate school can be a good experience if the topic interests you, the financial package is manageable, and you would like to live in the community where the university is located. If you pursue a graduate degree just for the outcome, the program should be brief and/or clearly profitable, which may be the case for an MD or a PhD in engineering.

Speaking of “where the university is located,” the USA is a big and diverse country. For anyone, pursuing graduate school will be a different experience if that means living in New York City versus a small Southern college town. For a Palestinian, the difference may be even more important (which is not to say that NYC would obviously be better).

To differentiate yourself from other applicants with equally good grades and scores, you need some depth of knowledge and experience on a particular topic. Your experience may be academic (for instance, a research project), or applied, or both. If you’re at an early stage and you don’t have this kind of depth, a first step is to find a mentor in your own university or community. By the way, you will need references, and mentors can provide letters.

Your application essay should reflect your personality and the admissions criteria of the specific program to which you are applying. That said, if you need a generic template for an essay, consider addressing these three questions: 1) What have you done so far in this field? 2) What do you want to learn in graduate school? 3) What do you want to do with what you’ve learned?

If you want to collaborate remotely with an American academic, don’t email and say you want to do research. Send an email that demonstrates specific understanding of the recipient’s own research and propose new research that would contribute to that person’s agenda.

We also talked a bit about visas and the climate for Palestinians in the USA, but I have focused this blog post on admissions and financial aid because I feel better informed about those issues, and my thoughts might apply to people from other countries.

notes from the West Bank

I spent the Thanksgiving break in the West Bank (via Israel). I visited two Palestinian universities, Bethlehem and An-Najah. I presented at both institutions and met students, faculty, administrators, and alumni, hoping to create or strengthen relationships and perhaps contribute just a bit to Palestinian higher education. Collaborative relationships with outside colleagues represent “social capital” that can benefit an institution, and that’s what I wanted to offer.

In all, I met more than 100 Palestinians as well as two Israelis whom I admire. Thanks to kind and well-informed hosts in the West Bank, I also had the chance to observe significant aspects of the current situation there. My visit was brief; my observations are superficial. Nevertheless, my packed three and a half days in the West Bank left vivid memories that will take me a long time to process.

For instance, I recall the contrast between two scenes.

In the Balata refugee camp—a zone of intensely concentrated poverty—I watch children literally playing with fire in the darkness, carrying burning garbage to make a pretend lethal trap for Israeli soldiers who frequently raid the camp later at night. Many of the walls are plastered with the photographs and names of armed young men (five to ten years older than the kids on the street) who have been killed.

On the other hand, in a classroom at An-Najah, I meet with about 65 earnest and impressive students of disciplines from computer science and medicine to English literature who aspire to study abroad. For two hours (until a driver arrives to take me to Tel Aviv), they ask me questions about admissions, financial aid, different kinds of degrees, and how to prepare to be competitive.

I also vividly recall walking around the partly excavated archaeological site of Sebastia, formerly a palace and city where many Christians and Muslims believe that John the Baptist is buried. You step on scattered tesserae as you explore the hill, set in a classic West Bank landscape of olive orchards, scattered Palestinian villages and visible Israeli settlements, and military installations on the mountaintops.

Finally, I hear a sophisticated and nuanced conversation about strategies for improving gender equity in Palestine, addressing the importance of women leaders in civil society and government, the pros and cons of treating feminism as a distinct agenda, the relevance and limitation of legal rights, and—as one woman said—the pattern that men start wars and women pay the steepest price of war. I sense that this is a debate among colleagues who already know and respect one another’s views but who cannot quite agree—which is just how things should be in a university.

See also: Teaching Civics in Kyiv