David F. Noble, a prominent critic of the corporatization of academe and of distance education, died on Monday evening of natural causes, the Toronto Globe and Mail reports. He was 65.
Mr. Noble taught at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and later at York University in Toronto, where he became known for his political activism.
In 2001 he was denied an appointment at Vancouver’s Simon Fraser University despite faculty backing, a denial he blamed on his activism. Six years later he settled out of court with the university.
According to the Globe and Mail, Mr. Noble, a Jew and an anti-Zionist, angered York University administrators in 2004 when he accused fund raisers there of being “biased by the presence and influence of staunch pro-Israeli lobbyists, activities, and fund-raising agencies.” He sued for defamation after the university condemned his actions, and the case was scheduled to go to trial next year.
What a tremendous loss, not least to the historical profession. Noble’s scholarship in the history of technology and capitalism was (and is) pathbreaking. It’s unfortunate that this post about his untimely death gives the impression that he was simply a litigious blusterer, while saying nothing whatsoever about his brilliant work. I hope those unfamiliar with Noble will take the time, if so inclined, to look especially at his early books, Forces of Production and America by Design. RIP, Dr. Noble.
A terrible loss, indeed. I first met David when I took a class from him at MIT, about 30 years ago; we stayed in touch, on and off, from that point on. He was a fundamental influence on my own scholarship, and a lasting inspiration personally.
My favorite memory of David is of his participation in a 1983 panel discussion at MIT on corporate funding of university research – a practice that, at the time, was not nearly so well established as it has since become. The other panelists expressed views ranging from enthusiastic approval (“corporate funding comes with fewer strings attached than federal funding”) to measured caution (“one must take care that the research agreements protect the right to publish the resulting data”). Come his turn to speak, David – an untenured faculty member – questioned the framing of the topic as the relationship between “academia,” on the one hand, and “industry” on the other, as many faculty and administrators themselves had key roles in the companies doing the funding, despite little awareness on campus of these relationships. He then calmly listed the board memberships of each of his co-panelists and the moderator. The other panelists seemed amused to slightly annoyed; the moderator, however – a former provost of the Institute – yelled “You’re a damn liar!” (He evidently felt David was implying this information had been kept secret from the public; the information was available via disclosure forms filed in some MIT office and available to the campus community – presumably how David himself got the info – but certainly few in the audience had been aware of it.)
Like that brief incident, David’s work was always focused on the fundamental relationships among the relevant actors, grounded in documentary evidence…and deeply principled, regardless of the personal consequences. (No one was particularly surprised when David was denied tenure the next year.)
We have other fine historians of technology, but I think none whose work better illustrates the idea that, in David’s own words (from the preface to _Forces of Production_):
“[Technology is] hardened history, frozen fragments of human and social endeavor.”
Reading the comments, I look forward to reading his work, definitely.
This is indeed a wholly inadequate account of the importance of David and his work. He was a model of the engaged academic and scholar. Much of what he had to say–decades ago– about the intersection of technology, university corporatization, and the assault on the humanities has proved sadly prescient. I hope the CHE runs a better obit than this.
Maybe in his next life he’ll work on important issues such as Saudi women being able to drive and vote (if it ever becomes a democracy), stopping low-waged labor of poor immigrants in the Gulf states, and becoming an “activist” to gain equal rights for women in the Middle East in general (such as not killing them for “adultery” which may be as much as going out to dinner with a male colleague, if they are allowed to work.) Sounds like he was not the sharpest knife in the drawer when it came to politics or social skills, eh?
Noble’s fears about the digitization of academe may have been overwrought but they still represent an important foil to respond to as universities consider how much to expand their distance education programs. Here’s an excerpt from Noble’s Digital Diploma Mills ( http://firstmonday.org/htbin/cgiwrap/bin/ojs/index.php/fm/article/view/569/490 ):
Once faculty and courses go online, administrators gain much greater direct control over faculty performance and course content than ever before and the potential for administrative scrutiny, supervision, regimentation, discipline and even censorship increase dramatically. At the same time, the use of the technology entails an inevitable extension of working time and an intensification of work as faculty struggle at all hours of the day and night to stay on top of the technology and respond, via chat rooms, virtual office hours, and e-mail, to both students and administrators to whom they have now become instantly and continuously accessible. The technology also allows for much more careful administrative monitoring of faculty availability, activities, and responsiveness.5
Yes, teachers may well be held responsible for their teaching. Horrors!
Instant and continuous accessibility arrived with the telephone in the 19th century. We’ve all survived.
To: pierce_library40
Monitoring of e-mail exchanges cannot possibly be the definition of instructor accountability. What is more likely the case is that the ‘squeaky wheels’ of IM land will receive far more attention than their whines deserve! I work with distant learners across generations, and have found that the “instant” to which you refer concerning Mr. Bell’s invention has little or no comparision with the expectations reflected in the instant-response, ATM, drive-through,twitter, 24/7 nation that we’ve become.
In the lyricist’s words: “something’s lost and something’s gained in living every day.” Instant contact is not synonymous with actually communicating — along with its various factors and nuances. Sadly, we have confused the two.
David spoke before us when I was one of two first philosophers to serve as AAAS Congressional Science Fellows. His stories about Corporate nuttiness were both funny and scary. But now when we have seen the near collapse of the world’s economy from that same short-sighted pursuit of “whatever” (not always money, as David liked to illustrate) we are forced to ask: What are they teaching in the business schools of this country? Whatever it is, it is clear that they did not want to hear from David. He was one of the good guys. Stan Dundon Sac State California
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I find myself a little confused by “California’s” comment. From what I see, Noble picked battles where he could have an impact and did some good work.
history-grrrl and alichtens are absolutely right. This notice about David Noble is a travesty – though I have no idea whether it is typical of the CHE. It is certainly par for the course in David’s dealings with the academy.
I too would encourage readers to go to his writings. David was a shining beacon of critical scholarship in the rather dismal field of science and technology studies. The self-appointed role of historians of technology is to sing along with the salesmen of modernity, ratifying “progress”. This Noble refused to do, and he paid for his heresy. Fortunately, amid the rubble of the twentieth century, David Noble’s work remains as a abiding legacy, a true gift to those struggling to build a saner, more just, world where all may live an ample life in common. Vale, comrade.
Professor Noble didn’t live long enough to see his dream of the entire Jewish population of Israel crowding into ships and trying to find a country in Europe that would take them.