A Tribute to Dr. Dan Papp

Not long ago, Dr. Dan Papp, president of Kennesaw State University, announced that he would be retiring from in his position at the end of June.  He didn’t explain why.  Even during his final graduation ceremony, when he revealed that this would be his last commencement, he did not elaborate on the reasons.

As of this writing, I still do not know why he is leaving.  Like many of my colleagues, however, I am very sorry to see him go.  He has been our president for the last ten years and during this interval has presided over an extraordinary period of growth and enhancement.

Readers of my columns will be aware that I have occasionally been critical of goings-on at KSU.  I fear that higher education is moving in directions that must eventually reduce its quality.  Nonetheless, this has not been Papp’s doing.  His task has been to cope with a train that has already left the station.

During that ultimate graduation ceremony, just how well Papp is regarded was on full display.  Dr. Ken Harmon, our provost, very movingly paid tribute to how effectively Papp mentored him.  Then the rest of the administrative team crowded round our outgoing president like a family that was losing its father.

Meanwhile, back at my department, my colleagues kept asking each other why he was leaving.  They too admire him and wonder who will be big enough to fill his shoes.  The last ten years, under his tutelage, has been a period of stability and collegiality.  Papp made sure that people knew where they stood and their needs were respected.

 KSU is today one of the fifty largest universities in the nation.  In terms of the number of students, it is almost as large as the University of Georgia.  Where once it had been a community college, and then a four-year college, and then a comprehensive university, now it has grown to be a research-three university.

Non-academics may not be aware of what this means, but it entails having added many masters and several doctoral programs.  This involved seriously upgrading the quality of our faculty and the standards they are expected to meet.  It also meant increasing the requirements for our students.

Not long ago, a recent addition to our faculty asked me what was different about KSU from when I started here a quarter of a century ago.  I replied that back then having written a book made me a pariah.  Nowadays, in contrast, many of my colleagues have also authored books.

Dr. Papp has likewise presided over our consolidation with Southern Poly. Several other Georgia schools that have endured this sort of shotgun marriage have come near to imploding.  This has not occurred in our case, largely because of our president’s political skills.

Once, during a private discussion, Papp confided that he sometimes wondered what would have happened if he had chosen a different vocational course.  He mused about whether he might someday have achieved the rank of ambassador.  I have no doubt, that given his diplomatic skills, this was a serious possibility.

I am also well aware of Papp’s academic accomplishments.  Most people don’t know it, but during the early 1980’s he published a paper predicting the dissolution of the Soviet Union.  In other words, he is a first-rate political scientist.

Even more importantly, he is a first-rate human being.  Kind, and sensitive to the needs of others, unlike many academics, he understands the ways of the real world.  He also understands its limitations and therefore has strived to work within them.

I will miss the many candid conversations that he and I have shared.  I will miss his honesty, his common sense, and his sanguine temperament.  But most of all KSU will miss the wisdom he has brought to what can be bone-crunching job.  Herding academic cats for a decade, and keeping most of them happy, is a near miraculous legacy.

Melvyn L. Fein, Ph.D.

Professor of Sociology

Kennesaw State University

Commuting Georgia Style

When finishing up my doctoral studies at the Graduate Center of the City University of New York, I was going to school in mid-town Manhattan, but living in the southern part of Brooklyn.  This required that I commute daily back and forth by subway.

The trip took about an hour and half in each direction and obliged me to stand most of the way, sandwiched in between other standing commuters.  There was no possibility of reading a book, given the constant jostling and noise.  The only option was to grin and bear it, while hanging on to a subway strap.

 As a native New Yorker, I had grown accustomed to this form of torture.  It seemed normal and inescapable.  But then something happened that changed my perspective.  I experienced a commute that was so horrendous it made me reevaluate everything I believed.

This time when I entered the subway car in Manhattan, I found a young man standing at the end of the coach with a huge radio on his shoulder.  He seemed to be playing it as loud as he could, but no one approached him to ask that he lower the volume because it looked as if he might turn violent.

At this point, I concluded that this was New York and hence discomfort came with the territory.  But then, about three stations later, another young man, with an even bigger radio, boarded our car.  He soon began playing dueling radios with the first fellow, apparently to see whose boom box was the most powerful.

For the next forty-five minutes or so, I stood there muttering to myself that there had to be a better way to live.  It was at this moment that I resolved to leave New York.  Not long thereafter I did and have never regretted my choice.

Today I live in Cherokee County, but commute to my job as a professor in Cobb County.  The automobile ride from Canton to Kennesaw State University takes about thirty-five minutes.  Of course, when I resided in Cobb, the trip took only about twenty minutes.

The bottom line is that it now takes me about fifteen minutes longer to get to work than it did before.  Most of this journey is on I-575, with this being the quickest part of the journey.  Sometimes I ride with my wife—who is also a professor at KSU—yet most of the time, because our schedules differ, I am alone.

As other residents of Cherokee will know, this trip has recently been made more difficult by construction along the highway.  An express lane is being added, so in the meantime barricades have restricted the roadway’s width, thereby slowing things down and making it more uncomfortable to navigate.

Still, I am not complaining.  I have a standard of comparison.  Whenever traffic is reduced to a crawl, I remember the New York subway.  Back then, I was standing, but now am sitting.  Back then, I was forced to hear the most obnoxious heavy-metal, whereas today Bach, Mozart, and Beethoven soothe my jangled nerves.

Moreover, Georgia drivers are so polite.  Oh yes, there is the occasional fool who drives too fast and cuts in when he shouldn’t.  By and large, however, people are courteous.  They allow their fellow motorists to change lanes and wait patiently in line at the stoplights that regulate access to the highway.

Did I mention that I was once a cab driver in New York?  Well, I was.  And so I know, from bitter experience, what cutthroat, bumper derby traffic is like.  I have also spent hours on the roads of south Florida, so I am also aware of what vehicular craziness looks like.

Commuting here in north Georgia is, by comparison, a walk in the park.  Traffic is never fun, but I get to rehearse my day before entering the classroom in the morning and to decompress in the afternoon after struggling with students during the intervening hours.

How bad is that?  I count myself lucky and therefore sanguinely tolerate the construction stops.  They are worth the price.

Melvyn L. Fein, Ph.D.

Professor of Sociology

Kennesaw State University

What Do We Do Now?

One summer, while I was in college, I sold encyclopedias door to door.  My territory was in the south Bronx.  This was why I was walking along the Grand Concourse, not far from Yankee stadium.  It was, therefore, where I encountered my first face-to-face death. 

The concourse is a broad, multi-lane boulevard.  On this day the traffic was about as usual.  Therefore I don’t know why it caught my attention, but I noticed a woman driving by with her two young sons playing in the back seat.

Then all of a sudden the back door flung open and a preschooler came tumbling out.  At this point, his mother panicked.  For some reason, she threw the vehicle into reverse.  And then she drove backwards trapping the boy under the car.

To this day I can call up the image of the child bouncing up and down like a sack of potatoes between the tarmac and the undercarriage of the sedan.  I am not sure that this killed him, but it is difficult to imagine how he survived.

In any event, I froze in my tracks.  My horror was such that I did not know what to do.  I did not run toward the vehicle because I was too terrified of what I might find.  Instead I ran into a nearby apartment building to call the police—who in short order arrived.

Nowadays I have experienced much the same feeling in witnessing the car wreck that has been the Republican primary process.   That Donald Trump has emerged as the nominee designate strikes me as unbelievable.  So unexpected—and unwelcome—is this outcome that I do not know what comes next.

Donald Trump is not a conservative.  He never was, and I don’t believe ever will be.  That voters, who are unhappy with their party because it is insufficiently conservative, should have selected a man who is mildly liberal makes no sense.

Over the last few weeks I have participated in intense conversations with several Trump supporters.  In each case, I was amazed at how indifferent these folks were to the facts.  All of them liked the Donald because they perceived him to be honest and strong.  None were concerned with his political convictions.

For me, this is one more piece of evidence that we are in the midst of an ideological crisis.  Many people, who describe themselves as conservative, care precious little about the goals promoted by conservatism.  Either they do not understand these—or they don’t give a darn.

Something similar seems to be true on the Democratic side of the ledger.  The enthusiasm, such as it is, is on the side of Bernie Sanders and not Hillary Clinton.  Bernie is liked, whereas Hillary is distrusted.

Evidently many Democratic voters do not care that until recently Sanders was no more a member of their party than Trump was of the Republicans.  He was, and is, a declared socialist—a man who honeymooned in the Soviet Union. 

In other words, Sanders represents mainstream liberalism no better than Trump represents mainstream conservatism.   And yet people are unconcerned.  It is enough that Sanders is regarded as honest and authentic.

Let’s put this into perspective.  The two major parties are supposed to champion conflicting political agendas.  They are ostensibly distinguished by the clear-cut doctrines to which their partisans subscribe.

And yet their supporters don’t subscribe to these ideologies.  Perhaps this is because they have lost faith in them.  The Republicans have come to see establishment politicians as RINOs (Republicans in name only) who have not delivered on their promises to roll back Obama’s programs.

Meanwhile, the Democrats have also lost faith in their establishment figures.  However much they defend Obama, they know that he has not produced “hope and change.”  In short, they too are disillusioned.

Can it be that neither conservatism nor liberalism is capable of fulfilling its promises?  Perhaps these ideologies have become hollow dreams.  They may not deliver because they are unable to deliver.

Melvyn L. Fein, Ph.D.

Professor of Sociology

Kennesaw State University

Bernie Sanders: Home Boy

Bernie Sanders and I are exactly the same age.  Moreover, we grew up in Brooklyn at the same time.  He, however, went to Madison High School, whereas I went to Lincoln.

Nonetheless, had I lived two blocks east of where I did, I too would have gone to Madison.  (As did Chuck Schumer.)  Indeed, when I was in Junior High, I was on the track team; hence had we gone to the same high school, I might literally have been his “running mate.”

As a consequence, I understand the world in which Sanders grew up.  Our neighborhood was mostly Jewish, but with a strong contingent of Italians.  Furthermore, I am sure that the honors classes we both attended were almost entirely Jewish—including the teachers.

And so we were both exposed to the same political philosophy, which was unabashedly socialist.  The Russian Jews had long had socialist inclinations.  They regarded this commitment as a vehicle for promoting justice and universal brotherhood.

The reason was simple.  In the pale of settlement, that is, the only part of Russia where Jews were allowed to reside, they were pariahs.  They could not participate in the political process, move about freely, or enter a variety of restricted occupations.

Socialism promised to change this.  It would remove the shackles that perpetuated their poverty and enable them to interact on a par with everyone else.  Once the government owned the means of production, discrimination would end and everyone would work together for the common benefit.

This was the dream; hence the refugees who sought freedom on our shores brought it with them in their baggage.  This philosophy was not perceived of as anti-American.   If anything, it was regarded as a means of fulfilling the American dream of democracy and prosperity for all.

This sort of socialism was preeminently idealistic.  The objective was to make the world a better place for everyone.  It was what my teachers taught.  It was what I came to believe.  It was surely the perspective that animated Sander’s political aspirations.

But you see I grew up.  When I was in college I became friends with classmates who subsequently majored in economics.  As a result, they became conservatives who challenged my socialism.  In due course, both of them became college professors.  One even studied under Milton Friedman.

This, plus twenty years working in government jobs, ultimately persuaded me that socialism is impractical.  I came to realize that market-based capitalism is a better guardian of our liberty and well-being.

Sanders evidently never came to this realization.  People perceive him as authentic, because I am quite certain that he is.  Whenever I listen to his speeches, I hear echoes of the sort of childhood we shared.  This convinces me that he is still trying to be a good boy who intends to implement the lessons of his mentors.

The trouble is that virtuous intentions are not enough.  Integrity and sincerity in service of a flawed agenda can cause more harm than good.  Sanders genuinely does want to help the poor—and the middle class.  Unfortunately his prescriptions will do the reverse.

Taking money from the rich to give to the poor will undoubtedly slow down the economy such that there is less available for everyone.  By the same token, making more people dependent upon the government will rob them of their initiative and therefore of their sense of accomplishment.

America is a land of opportunity—but only for those who take advantage of it.  The government cannot save us; we can only save ourselves.  Although Sanders promises free health care and free college tuition, these are useless to those who do not know how to exploit them.

My ancestors, and Bernie’s, benefitted from the freedoms that America made available.  It would be a shame to lose these in the process of trying to improve upon them.  It would be doubly sad if this occurred thanks to the socialist policies of an honest man.

Melvyn L. Fein, Ph.D.

Professor of Sociology

Kennesaw State University