A Eulogy
STEPHEN A. RESNICK (1938-2013)
Friday, 4 January 2013
It’s hard to believe that we are here to say good-bye. Standing together at his grave site, we are now “compelled to face with sober senses” the fact that Steve’s journey in this world has ended. Fortunately, our journey with him has not.
My own journey with Steve started before I even met him. I stumbled across an article he wrote in 1975, published in the American Economic Review (the last time he would be allowed to publish something in a mainstream economics journal), “The State of Development Economics.” (If I’m not mistaken, Steve gave it in a session at the AEA meetings that also included Rick Wolff.) It was simply the best, most consistently radical critique of mainstream development economics I had ever read. And it remains so. (If I remember correctly, it was after that session that Steve was declared persona non grata by many in the discipline.)
That article is one of the main reasons I decided to attend UMass (with the intention of studying Marxism with him and others for a few years, and then going off and trying to find a job). Little did I know I was just at the beginning of a long—intellectual and personal—journey with Steve.
I won’t bore you with the details. But I consider myself fortunate: during my first semester at UMass (in 1977) I served as Steve’s Teaching Assistant for that marvelous Principles of Microeconomics course he taught for so many years (and then, in the following semester, I was Rick’s TA—what an apprenticeship for teaching those two semesters were for me!). At the same time, I was taking Steve’s European economic history course (during which we managed to make it all the way up to 1650). Then, the journal group (where we discussed that first paper of the new work Steve and Rick were doing, “The Theory of Transitional Conjunctures and the Transition From Feudalism to Capitalism in Western Europe”), the founding of AESA (the Association for Economic and Social Analysis, which continues as a vital and vibrant entity to this day), and finally the journal we had long wanted to get started (Rethinking Marxism, which is now, much to our surprise, in its twenty-third year).
None of that would have happened without Steve’s extraordinary commitment, intellectual inspiration, and dedication to teaching.
It’s that commitment to teaching I was inspired by, once again, when I saw Steve for the last time this past summer. Once again, I drove down from Vermont and there he was at the door, with a big smile, a strong embrace, and an impatience to tell me his latest teaching story. It seems some of the medical staff learned about Steve’s work and, after talking with him, one of them even went out and bought one of his books. He couldn’t contain himself in expressing his pride (and he was, as we all know, a proud man) that, even when hooked up to the tubes that were sapping his physical strength, he was able to continue to teach.
So I left him later that day, recommitted to the teaching I’ve been doing for the past three decades, feeling grateful that for the better part of my adult life I have been on a journey in which Steve was present—as my mentor, comrade, and dear friend.
Fortunately, that journey with Steve continues—as I join many, many others in remembering and celebrating the warmth of his friendship, his steadfast commitment to ending social injustice, and his intellectual and pedagogical contributions to the rethinking of Marxism.
David F. Ruccio
—————————–
Please feel free to leave your thoughts and memories to the comments section below.
In addition to the Brecht poem shared by Jack, I would like to share this poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay. In memory of Steve whose impact on my life was profound…
Dirge Without Music
by Edna St. Vincent Millay
I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.
Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains, but the best is lost.
The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,
They are gone. They are gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.
Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.
The first time I saw Steve Resnick in action was for a course in the second semester of my first year which he co-taught with Rick Wolff in the Fall of 2005. The class was originally titled “imperialism and colonialism”, but it was then diluted into something like “capital flows and unequal exchange”. I remember very well Rick pacing up and down while giving the intro to the course, while Steve sat there observing us and his pal. On various occasions Steve would take his coffee paper cup and scribble something on it. Later I would learn he was writing down ideas related to what was part of his research at the time, the class analysis of the household.
The thing is that in those classes one of my favorite Steve moments happened constantly; his laughter in reaction to something Rick said or did. Steve would simply turn red in that explosion of hilarity, and sometimes utter in low voice a phrase that denoted his immense love for Rick, a phrase that I would hear many times afterwards when I constantly visited their office: “you fucker!”.
Steve was also my first “boss” at UMass when in the Fall of 2006 I was one of his TAs for Econ103-intro to micro- with my dear comrade and student of Resnick & Wolff, Rajesh Bhattacharya. I had many other professors for which I worked afterwards for this and other classes, and to this day no one had the energy, pedagogical skill, and love for what he was doing as Steve. His emphasis on having respect for neoclassical theory, irrespective of one’s personal final verdict on it, and his emphasis on understanding the “logic” of its different variants left deep impressions on me. It was at this time that I recognized how political his successful approach was, and of course, his students loved him! (normally the students love the TA over the professor, but absolutely not in this case).
Not long afterwards in that same semester I had the courage to approach him regarding my ideas for a dissertation (Rick was on sabbatical), even though a feeling of intimidation still crept into my thoughts. At that first meeting in his 9th floor office his side to side shaking head ended between his hands on more than one occasion without a word being uttered. The more he shook his head without saying anything became an unbearable process. Finally, he looked at me and smiled, and a river of ideas poured forth in what seemed to be a pleasurable way to drown, compared with the possibility of throwing myself out the window that I had entertained in my thoughts as no shred of an opinion by him was manifested just 5 minutes before.
Some years later I would TA for him for his Marxian Economics Course. We would meet everyday in the lobby of Thompson to make the 15 min walk to the room were he taught. During those walks we talked about a variety of topics, from questioning what appropriation meant in their scheme (is it or not about property as Marx mentions in the Grundrisse?) to him recounting his time working with Stephen Hymer. The same happened with the 15 min it took to come back to the Econ Dept.
In his last semester teaching at UMass, I had the fantastic experience of being two hours with him in his office conducting what was in effect an interview of him (unfortunately no recording was made at the moment, given my interest to conduct a more formal interview later for an alternative history of the UMass dept. in reaction to Don Katzner’s recent book). Steve spoke about his experiences as a student at MIT with Samuelson, Kindleberger, Solow, and Domar. He recounted anecdotes involving Sweezy, Magdoff, Mandel, and Robinson. He remembered with furious/energetic nostalgia the intense debates in the department with Bowles and Gintis and the exciting development of the department in the 70s. He simply was bouncing from one side of the office to the other recounting all of this…
Finally, during those hours I couldn’t stop telling myself about what an amazing voice Steve had. That voice articulated many phrases that were repeated over time, like “we have to keep theoretically distinct this”, or “From what I recall…” It is this same voice that I have to counter in my thoughts, even after his departure, every time I write or think through something.
Reading the last email exchanges we had (all the way to his last email to me on the 25 of December of 2012 that only contained an “OK” when I asked permission to reference some of his email replies to me related to a symposium in RM that will come out later this year), his voice resonates with all the splendor, energy, and passion that made Steve one of my biggest influences. As with all dialectical relations, it is with great sadness and happiness that I remember how lucky I was to meet and actively engage with this most loving person. We will deeply miss you.
A Eulogy
[Read at the Memorial for Stephen A. Resnick at UMASS-AMHERST on April 26, 2013]
It’s nice to be back at UMass, I only wish it could be under different circumstances. That said, I think this event is a wonderful tribute to an outstanding scholar, mentor and teacher. I sincerely hope today is a celebration of Steve’s life, his work, and his legacy.
I’m currently the president of AESA. AESA is one of Steve’s along with Rick Wolff’s and their very activist graduate students’, many accomplishments. We are about 30 years old now!! and I’m proud to say we have over 100 active members from all over the world. Moreover, as our next speaker, Jack Amariglio will tell you, another accomplishment is that we also sponsor Rethinking Marxism, which is now celebrating its 25th year. This journal, which started out as a dream of Steve, Rick and their students is now ranked 20th in heterodox economics journals, that is well in the top third.
This September we will be hosting the 8th gala conference entitled Surplus, Solidarity, Sufficiency—right here at UMass—indeed, every gala so far has been held here—I guess because it’s our “home.” The conference will not only celebrate 25 years of the journal, but we will also honor Steve and his good friend and colleague Julie Graham. The longevity of AESA and RM wouldn’t have been possible without the leadership, mentoring and teachings of Steve Resnick and Rick Wolff.
I know this is supposed to be a tribute to Steve’s life and work—which of course it is, but one cannot talk about Steve’s work, without including Rick; their 40-year collaboration was astonishing to say the least. And now, even though we’ve unfortunately lost Steve, his legacy continues via Rick, his students, colleagues, friends and family.
Perhaps you have noticed that some folks who would have absolutely been here, are not—indeed, they wanted to, but alas, they decided to continue with their scheduled RM editorial board meeting in DC tomorrow. I think it’s only fitting that the e board made this decision, given that I think that was what Steve was all about—this important work should continue to grow, and indeed it is!
We now have multi-generational students’ of Steve and Rick who are teaching at institutions worldwide. At John Jay College, where I work, as of this Fall, we will have 6 economists, 3 are AESA members and 4 are UMass economics grads. Not only that, we also have a UMass economics alum in Africana Studies—I guess it’s our time to offer a critique to the neoliberal agenda so prominent in the news.
To me Steve was a very “hands off” type of teacher, and by the way, I say teacher because Steve taught—he didn’t just profess! He gave us room to be creative and flourish, but he also “offered” (maybe insisted) guidance when he thought appropriate.
I was fortunate enough to know and work with Steve—but alas only for about 20 years, not like many folks that are here. Most of my time with Steve, his dry Boston humor made me laugh, but occasionally I did cry—that said, I left every meeting feeling not only welcome but I ALWAYS came out thinking.
Okay, on a lighter note, the first time I heard Steve speak, I giggled, I thought he talked funny. Then I found out he was a staunch Red Sox fan—OMG not something a New Yorker (actually a Jersey Girl) wanted to find out, especially one that’s a Met’s and Yankee fan. And even though they were under unfortunate circumstances, I only wish Steve could have seen all those Yankee fans in the Bronx, belting out “Sweet Caroline” during the game last week.
I loved what I thought what Steve’s dry sense of humor, it emanated in every class and conversation I had with him. But one particular instance I’ll share with you all today. This one really stands out for me and I choose to end this small tribute to such a great man with this heartfelt story.
I defended my dissertation in February of 2006. At that time I was teaching at Indiana University in Labor Studies. In the previous May, I was informed that if I didn’t defend my dissertation within the year, I would be canned! So I put myself to work and finally wrote the dang thing! With the many graduate students that Steve and Rick advised—the turn around time was a bit longer than expected. But when I got their comments back, Steve and I had well over 30 emails in the next 3 days—ending on New Year’s Eve. I then promised I would send all the revisions within 2 weeks— and I did.
Steve and Rick got back to me within 10 days! An amazing turn-around given how many students they advise. They told me to get a defense date!!!
Jump forward to February 27, 2006—I flew home to NJ from Indiana, and then talked my mother into coming with me to Amherst to “witness” my defense (note, she had no idea what this was all about, never mind Marxian economics). She sat attentively during the whole thing. At one point in the defense, I looked at her and thought she looked like a deer with the headlights shining into her eyes.
The committee (Rick, Steve, and Elaine Bernard) discussed my thesis and asked me questions—normal for any Ph.D. defense—not however, normal for those who aren’t academics. Then the committee asked if anyone in the audience had questions, Steve looked right at my mother. Scared, she just shook her head, NO. Oh, how I felt guilty for bringing her.
Then the committee asked us all to leave the room. Within a few minutes, I was asked to come back in—this quite frankly could be taken a few ways. But when I went in, Rick and Elaine congratulated me, but Steve—he had something different to say. He said: “I didn’t dare not pass you—I was afraid of your New Jersey mother!”
We will always miss Steve—but his work and his legacy will live for a long time. Not only with us, but with his wonderful children and grandchildren as well.
EGSO eulogy for Steve
April 26, 2013
Steve was an extraordinary mentor to so many of us. We discovered who we are – indeed, we became who we are – in conversation with Steve. And he had a seemingly limitless appetite for those conversations. I suppose he (in part) became who he was in conversation with us. By the time this current EGSO crop arrived at UMass he was to us “the old man.” (Steve, for his part, referred to Marx as “the old man” and but described himself as “an old man.”) Illustrations of his appetite for conversation:
Illustration 1: Steve hurrying in late to class, explaining the delay by saying he had been deep in conversation with one of our colleagues. The delay in starting the class is shorter than the delay in ending.
Illustration 2: a time-lapse sequence of composite images – so many of us had meetings like this. First image – A student approaching a meeting with Steve, perhaps feeling uncertain, a bit intimidated. Second image – The student starting to explain what she’d been working on, thinking about; Steve listening intently, not yet speaking. Next – Steve responding, questioning, pushing our ideas farther, deeper. Some time later, the first line of inquiry beginning to wind down; Steve asking, “What else? This is your time.” The conversation renews in intensity. Final image – At last, after two hours, maybe three, the student leaves, exhilarated.
An audio clip: I don’t know anyone else who can make this sound, so I’ll have to ask you to call it up from memory: Steve laughing. Laughing with the pleasure and excitement of the work we all did
together.
Undergraduates flocked to his classes, which always had long waiting lists, and at EGSO allocation meetings, Steve’s sections were snapped up quickly by TAs eager both to learn what he taught and to observe how he taught. Four decades of graduate students took his classes and wrote dissertations under his guidance. His brilliant mentoring and teaching were no accident. Certainly he must have had some innate talent for it, a reliable intuition for what his students needed and how to connect with us, but it wasn’t just instinct. He approached teaching with the same analytical clarity, the same commitment to
making explicit his philosophical foundations, and the same moral urgency he brought to his research. The teaching and the research were two aspects of the same life’s work.
Let’s bring back that image of Steve, in that meeting with a student, after listening, at last responding. He was likely to say something like, “I like that, what you just did. Do that again.” He used the word “do” for thinking, theorizing, persuading. The “knowledge” (of Knowledge and Class) wasn’t just some kind of passive representation of the world. It was a material intervention in it. It was that view of knowledge as active transformation that is, in part, responsible for him being such an effective and committed teacher.
The other half of Knowledge and Class, of course, is class. The material intervention he was committed to making through his theory and through his teaching was to oppose class exploitation. We admired Steve for the convictions he held deepest, for his commitment to revealing knowledge that is denied and suppressed. Steve trained as an economist, to study the economy, but the formal education he received, he used to tell us, from Nobel prize-winners, did not critique capitalism. Steve had to learn elsewhere and on his own about capitalism. What he learned is that what happens in a capitalist enterprise, a corporation, is that workers, employees, produce more value than they receive in wages. The employer, the corporation, the board of directors, receives the extra value, the surplus, that the workers produce but don’t get. This is class exploitation. This is a social theft, but this theft, unlike most theft, is accepted, or rather, denied. Our economists are among those who deny this is happening. Steve went a step beyond most economists by seeing that an economics discipline that denies the existence of this exploitation is part of the problem that a surplus which Steve estimated to be trillions of dollars a year, is stolen from the workers who produced it. This suppression of knowledge was not new in history. In the 1930s, the economics discipline denied that there was a business cycle. It took courageous heretics to insist that the business cycle was an inherent part of the economic system. Steve belongs to this tradition of courageous heretics.
Steve’s position was that exploitation is socially destructive; if he could change one thing about the world, it would be to end class exploitation. (Though, even so, he never dismissed other forms of social oppression, other components of human experience, or reduced them to class. Class was the analytical entry point he chose, but never the only thing that mattered.) Steve was deliberate in teaching what made people uncomfortable, but it was provocation with a purpose: he did this because he taught us that human knowledge and human well-being grow together. A classic example was his response to the common focus on economic growth and employment. “I always thought,” he wrote once, “that a fully employed capitalist economy was also a fully exploited economy.”
Steve persuaded many of us to care about class. Still, his effectiveness as a teacher wasn’t that he taught us to think what he thought; he taught us to think what we thought.
Mark Silverman: I had argued with Steve over the years about his concept of “overdetermination,” agreeing with it in part but also finding parts of it unconvincing. Eventually he said to me (probably to shut me up) “you know, I think you have a point. Write a paper on it.” Somewhere in the writing process I got nervous about the prospect of being too critical of him (in what was to be a published paper). He replied by email, insisting that I “put this political, thin skin crap out of your head. And I insist you mention me by name wherever and whenever warranted by the critique. The most important thing is for you to argue (intervene in making) the point. That also can give me (us) and still others a chance to argue with you in the future.”
Zoe Sherman: Early in my work with him I tried out an idea on him and he disagreed emphatically. I said, “OK, I’ll think about it some more. But what happens if I convince myself of something but I can’t persuade you?” He said that would be OK. He said his standard was that he had to understand the argument, but he didn’t have to be persuaded.
Along with the intellectual rigor he brought to teaching, there was Steve’s frank acknowledgement of teaching as emotional labor. He told students beginning dissertations with him that the work matters and he would read the work carefully and critically, but his main job would be to hold our hands and tell us it will be alright and we can do it. Writing a dissertation is hard, he warned us, and not that many people understand what we’re doing and how hard it is; there aren’t that many places to turn for the support we need — so he offered it.
Another manifestation of his respect and support for us as thinkers was his respect and support for EGSO. He was an EGSO ally in efforts to strengthen graduate students’ say in the governance of the department and the dimensions of our education. And he supported our opposition to time limits on funding. Learning so many different perspectives, as we do at UMass, takes time.
Steve understood the value of taking time. He wrote to Tomas Rotta last year, “When we put together the package at UMASS I said to myself (and to Rick) that I will write nothing more for a few years until I can figure out what is my problem with the Marxian tradition out of which I came. So Rick and I decided ‘to go back to school’ and read and reread everything and discuss. That is one luxury of academic life. It was one of the best periods of my life.”
Steve remained astoundingly generous with his time, even when he must have known that he had precious little left. (Though he never let on.) We can’t help but wish that he had more time; that we had more time with him. But we are grateful for the time we did have, we can still look to him as a model for how to use our time, and we can still look to each other as we keep learning about Steve, about ourselves, about our discipline, and about our world.