Since returning from the Persian Gulf, I have done a lot of thinking about the U.S. engagement with the region in general, and in particular about the role of American studies in the Middle East. A friend (a distinguished former diplomat who served in the region) wrote to me that he thought there were two problems with American studies abroad: “First, what is it — and what is it perceived to be? And second, how on earth can we justify inflicting it on foreigners?” These are good questions about American studies anywhere in the world, of course, and they seem particularly urgent in the Middle East.

As many readers will know, the field has changed more or less continuously since entering the academic scene following World War II. At first (think of the early history of the Salzburg Seminar) it was pretty clearly geared toward assisting with the democratization (dare one say “Americanization”?) of postwar Europe. And I suppose this agenda has never fully disappeared.

Earlier versions of the field emphasized the study of government, history, and literature in a fairly traditional manner. My impression is that, especially in Europe, the field then turned in a decidedly literary direction, with an emphasis on Hemingway, Faulkner, and other writers who had long since ceased to be the primary objects of study in the United States. But over the past couple of decades the focus of American Studies abroad (as it has been here in the States) has been on popular culture — everything from comic books to hip-hop. But a question that has too seldom been asked is, Should the field serve some different purpose abroad than it does at home?

That leads us to the second question mentioned by my correspondent, “Why are we inflicting it on foreigners?” He was a cultural-affairs officer, and his question is in part, Why should the federal government pay for American studies abroad? But to me it also raises the broader and more urgent question of what scholars (both indigenous and American) hope to achieve through the study of the United States abroad. Senator Fulbright would have argued that it will enhance “mutual understanding” between the U.S. and foreign nations. On the other hand, there are some (and not only in the State Department) who still believe in Americanization as the goal. My own long-term commitment, which I know seems pretty old-fashioned, is for emphasis on deep understanding of the basic institutions of American public and private life.

At this point in history, however, it is tempting for the American-studies scholar to present himself or herself as a critic of our policies, to think that the study of where America has gone wrong will somehow help to build bridges with those foreigners who are also critical of our country. But that stance troubles me. These days, the scholar’s great temptation is to be highly critical of the United States, especially with respect to our current Middle East policies. It is surely good that foreigners should know that the voice and action of our government is not necessarily the vox populi, and that scholars have independent views. On the other hand, it is important that such criticism is tempered, and not simply raw expressions of personal bias (though I know I am describing a fine line here).

In the end I think the challenge for traveling American scholars is to seek a critical space for engagement with the sorts of public and private questions that most trouble both Americans and their hosts. And that is a good deal harder than it sounds.