THE ACADEMY AND HOSPITALITY
by John B. Bennett

The concept of hospitality undergirds the very reason for the academy.

JOHN B. BENNETT is Provost and Senior Vice President for Academic Affairs at Quinnipiac University in Hamden, Connecticut. He has published widely on administrative and ethical matters in higher education.

A key virtue for the academy is hospitality -- the extension of self in order to welcome the other by sharing and receiving intellectual resources and insights. This intellectual and moral virtue is essential to the work and success of the academy.(1) Admittedly, my view is not a common one. Hospitality is often taken to mean a bland congeniality. As theologian Henri Nouwen notes, for many if not most of us, hospitality suggests "tea parties, bland conversations, and a general atmosphere of coziness."(2)

Within the academy, hospitable individuals are often scolded for being "soft" on standards and inclined toward compromise rather than standing forthrightly for intellectual rigor and excellence. Organizationally, being hospitable does not fare any better. It is usually associated with hotel/restaurant management programs rather than with goals for every program, school, or institution. Instead of modeling hospitality, disciplines and departments may contain deep ideological and personal divisions. Departments and schools often struggle with each other over resources or prestige, and many institutions seem themselves to be locked in competition for students and standing. In fact, in academe the concept has lost much of its original power. But as Nouwen observes of its broader importance, "if there is any concept worth restoring to its original depth and evocative potential, it is the concept of hospitality."(3)

Intellectual Hospitality and the Academy

An indispensable characteristic of healthy learning communities, intellectual hospitality involves welcoming others through openness in both sharing and receiving claims to knowledge and insight. The sharing is marked by considerateness toward others and recognition that others' distinctive individualities and overall experience are inherently relevant to their learning. The receiving is marked by awareness that however initially strange, the perspective of the other could easily supplement and perhaps correct one's own work or even transform one's self-understanding. Hospitable educators know that adverse evidence may have been overlooked, that the potential for self-deception always accompanies the desire to support one's position, and that different and even foreign perspectives can provide breakthroughs in understanding,

Throughout learning, being intellectually hospitable means being open to the different voices and idioms of others as potential agents for mutual enhancement, not just oppositional conflict. Consider Michael Oakeshott's metaphor of "conversation" for the work of the academy. In the sharing and receiving of hospitality "different universes of discourse meet, acknowledge each other and enjoy an oblique relationship which neither requires nor forecasts their being assimilated to each other"(4) -- though they can be enriched and changed. Conversations include, but are more than, disputes and quarrels, assertions and denials. Arguments are used constructively to clarify issues, not to vanquish opponents. The key point is respectful engagement with the other -- what Oakeshott calls "acknowledgment and accommodation," not indifference or conquest. Respectful engagement requires willingness to suspend initial scepticism about the other as well as to put one's own cards on the table -- to indicate one's own position and its support, however vulnerable that makes one.(5)

We can distinguish between two levels of hospitable conversation.(6) The initial and primary level is that of offering to share and to receive -- disclosing information and dimensions of one's own perspective on knowledge as well as attending respectfully to similar initiatives by the other. This initial level of hospitality, of mutual conversational exchange, requires that each hold in abeyance perhaps strong views of the subject under review. The objective is not to convert the other but to provide insight into the positions held. Only when this occurs sufficiently is it appropriate and fruitful to move into the second level, the provision of feedback on the positions exchanged -- the sharing of analysis and criticism, offered in the effort to move toward a testing and deepening of the insights under review as well as those that may well emerge through this process.

Intellectual hospitality includes but goes beyond being courteous and civil. Acts of courtesy and civility can be used to limit or even avoid interaction with others on difficult or controversial subjects -- thus continuing rather than correcting inhospitable customs and traditions. Familiar examples include the "civil" refusal to review curricula or even traditional course assignments, for fear of upsetting comfortable arrangements and reigniting turf wars. Some educators enter into tacit agreements to isolate and ignore rather than confront colleagues who repeatedly shirk service obligations, neglect or abuse students, or abandon the ongoing scholarship that energizes and informs teaching. Civil truces among warring parties may be good, but they can involve an expensive denial of the greater good that comes only with efforts to address the common welfare. In any case, being intellectually hospitable is certainly not simply "being nice."

Being hospitable means refusing to insist upon one's own terms. It means relinquishing protective and controlling mechanisms, and abandoning careful calculations about the quantity of good one extends over against what one anticipates receiving. Being academically hospitable means treating others, at least initially, as one's intellectual equals, letting them know they matter as fellow inquirers, and working toward mutual interaction and reciprocity. It means recognizing that even strangers could be colleagues. Conducted with generosity and reciprocity, such openness is what being hospitable means, and it promises the possible transformation and fulfillment of both host and guest.

It can be quite difficult to sustain engagement with the other in a spirit of generosity, charitableness, and reciprocity. Both effort and desire for success are required. Additionally, without at least an implicit relational framework within which reciprocity and mutual appropriation are conceptually possible, sharing and receiving may appear either as impossible or as betrayal and theft. Yet, as Michael Oakeshott observed, conversations do occur without incomprehension or imperialism -- something that can be explicated only through a prior and underlying relational framework. In fact, it is precisely in contrast to the mutuality of relationality that exploitation and dominance are seen as oppressive realities.

However eclipsed by organizational bureaucracy or by individual indifference or aggressiveness, relationships marked by hospitality remain fundamental to the work of the academy. The practice of hospitality is an epistemological necessity. Genuine hospitality recognizes a multiplicity of persons and gifts; it is a witness to contemporary pluralism; it acknowledges the provisional character of knowledge, that through the help of the other the best today may be replaced by a better tomorrow. Without the mutual openness and reciprocity of hospitality, teaching becomes mechanical transmission of data, learning becomes receipt of information without internal impact, scholarship falls into lifeless and isolated inquiry, and service deteriorates into quid pro quo arrangements. Hospitality's mutual openness to others in sharing and receiving is an essential condition for a vigorous and lively academy. Let us look in more detail at how this is so.

Teaching, Scholarship, and Service

It is intellectual hospitality that is the foundation of the traditional three-fold functions of academics -- teaching, scholarship, and service (though these are shorthand ways of speaking about one complex activity, not three discrete ones). Hospitality in teaching involves asking the "right" questions of others. These are questions that "draw out" students so that their own experience becomes a valuable and respected resource enabling them to find their own voices, to be true to their own experiences, talents, and identity. Whether student, faculty or administrative colleague, the other is always a concrete, not a generalized, other -- an individual with a unique mix of experience and talents. As a consequence, the relationships of learning are rich and complex. They are trilateral -- hospitable teaching is always more than just an instructor teaching students. Students teach each other and the instructor as well.

Because teaching is a public act, even in a sheltered and shuttered classroom, many faculty find that there are more ways to fail than succeed, and they can be regularly shadowed by fear. The diversity of students and issues that instructors face can enrich us and draw us out of our own parochialism even as it also confronts us with our limitations. It can enlarge our sense of reality even as it tempts us to reduce others to versions of ourselves -- or, even worse, to treat students as objects for sarcastic comment. Hospitable teachers work with the students they actually have, not ones they might wish for. They work for the good of those they are entrusted to serve, even as they struggle with uncertainties about how best to do that.

Hospitable instructors also witness to the personal value and usefulness of the learning they promote. Their learning makes a difference in who they are as well as what they do. Excessive abstraction -- from application to self, for instance -- creates inert knowledge, thwarting the mutual enrichment that defines hospitality. Hospitable teachers attempt to integrate, rather than separate, their personal and professional lives. They practice what they preach, demonstrating the worth of their learning and showing how it has personal value now.(7)

Hospitality in scholarship means paying careful and disciplined attention to something different from ourselves, reflecting on how it might be an avenue into the world, not away from it. Inquiry demands attention to something outside ourselves -- something that makes claims upon us. We are challenged to find ways to share with others our perceptions of this reality -- ways that are sensitive both to them and to it. Fidelity to language and other symbol systems that are themselves faithful to experience is required. Understood this way, scholarship and creative activity relate us to, rather than separate us from, colleagues, students, our institution, and the broader community.

Practicing hospitable scholarship provides faculty a way to do themselves what they ask of their students -- to integrate the theoretical and practical, thought and feeling, the intellectual and the personal, research and the larger purposes of education, in the ways just discussed. Without this integration of living and learning, the familiar call for life-long learning appears hollow. Without attending to their own integration, educators endorse by default the anti-intellectual position that education is only credentialing. When we do not allow our learning to make a difference in who we are, we announce that learning is really only a mechanical thing -- of instrumental value, perhaps, but not something to share with others as personally treasured and constitutive of self.

The relationship of hospitality to the constant movement in academe between community and solitude also bears on service. Hospitality means that ultimately the sharing of insights between self and other is service to a larger community. Without teaching and scholarship serving a broader common good, commitment to truth seems incomplete. For that reason, any distinction between intellectual hospitality and hospitality as such is only preliminary. To regard intellectual hospitality as a different, more esoteric or more valuable kind of hospitality continues the separation between inner and outer, private and public that hospitality seeks to overcome.

In this sense, service is an inclusive category -- it points to the commitment to establish and uphold the conditions that make for teaching informed by scholarship and for the integrity of one's discipline. It reminds us of the self-regulation required of any profession -- attention to and responsibility for the conditions in which education can occur and learning be facilitated. Service is the inclusive category insofar as it elevates the professional obligation to make hospitality a constitutive element of all teaching and research.

Of course there are degrees of hospitality. Personal capabilities ebb and flow; external circumstances help or impede. Many relationships are necessarily limited and temporary, and only a few may permit more extensive cultivation. However, to attend to the values of others need not mean embracing them; it is enough to consider them -- but on their terms, not one's own. Almost always this means engaging the other in honest, critical dialogue whose goal is to clarify meaning, not to win or establish superiority. Because being hospitable at this fundamental level can be extraordinarily difficult, it is easy to give up out of self-protection or laziness -- or even because of philosophical perplexities and confusions that stem from inadequate concepts of ethics.

Situating a Collegial Ethic of Hospitality

In many ways our age is defined by the contrasting positions of scientism and various forms of postmodernism. In either position, education often appears to lack enduring and compelling reasons for its own activity. Norms by which it might judge inherent excellence seem weak and relativistic. When those in the academy insist upon the primacy of the so-called value neutrality of scientific objectivity or when they deconstruct all formal frameworks of understanding, they abandon grounds from which to argue for their own concerns and positions. Why should the public, or academics themselves, support an enterprise whose fundamental purposes and values are not defensible in scientific terms or are regarded as relative to each person and his or her economic and social class? As a method requiring careful replication of results by others, science is indeed hospitable. But as a larger, exclusive worldview, science cannot in its own terms account for its value; and if, as some postmodernists claim, reality is no more than what each individual or community holds it to be, then educators can hardly claim special authority or ask support from the public.

Without an encompassing framework within which issues of social recognition and control can be located, ethical analysis and behavior in academe are reduced to the utilitarian management and adjudication of differences. When academics authoritatively declare the universal lack of authority of encompassing frameworks, pragmatic decisions or contests of power become the only alternatives. Issues must be constantly readjusted to the shifting alignments of interests and to the review and revision of the tentative. For at least these reasons, the academy needs the larger framework that implementation of the concept of hospitality provides. It is in this framework that different perspectives and standpoints can be openly discussed, evaluated, and balanced. Indeed it is only in discussions within this larger framework that individual differences take on significance and personal transformation is likely to occur. Differences become a source of new awareness and interaction rather than a problem, even though enlargements are partial, never complete.

Intellectual hospitality, however, is no license for muddleheadedness. It calls for clear and thoughtful articulation of governing standards, both as a courtesy to others and to determine one's faithfulness to these standards -- even as it prompts regular reconsideration of their adequacy. Being hospitable does not mean dwelling in constant self-conscious doubt. It does require abandoning the self-absorbed shrillness that often characterizes debate. Genuine openness to the other entails curiosity about what one might learn as well as offer. Hospitality means authentic, not feigned, interest in the other -- the reality, not just the appearance, of openness. Throughout there is appreciation that the best one has may indeed be surpassed by what the other can offer.

Insistent Individualism

A major threat to intellectual hospitality is the well-developed penchant in the academy for what I call "insistent individualism" -- the disposition to behave in self-absorbed and self-protecting ways and to put narrow self-interest ahead of the welfare of others or a common good. For the insistent individualist, personal status and value are correlated with increased self-sufficiency and independence from others. Individual and social identity, worth, and fulfillment are understood in terms of power to shape and control others, to resist their power and to treat them as a function of one's own ends.

These behaviors give the academy its reputation as an arrogant place where fierce battles are waged over small stakes. Others become means for the realization of one's own goals -- making insistent individualists appear as self-enclosed entities, separate and unrelated atoms. Openness is diminished and corrupted through fear that the other will not respond -- or may over respond -- heightening one's own vulnerability. Reduced to calculations of individual advantage, hospitality toward others evaporates and with it the possibility of genuine community. Insistent individualism is especially prominent in the academy when faculty use their verbal agility and knowledge to distance and exclude rather than welcome and include others. Individual agendas predominate at the expense of attending to others or to a common good. Two types of insistent individualists are especially familiar.

Some faculty are aggressive in their individualism, constantly jockeying for privilege, power, and control. These individualists seem to delight in intellectual combat, pursuing abrasive confrontation in order to advance their own standing and reputation. Their objective is to prevail and then to count coup. It is to talk and to be heard rather than to listen. In her Possessions Julia Kristeva describes the passive role assigned others -- a key strategy of the insistent individualist. "I speak to you, you listen, therefore I am. Listen to me in order that I may exist."(8) For the aggressive insistent individualist, this is the fundamental role assigned to the other: to confirm and reassure that he or she exists. And in the broadest sense this is as far as the influence of the other goes. No genuine interaction occurs.

To be sure, the audience can play additional roles beyond creating and affirming the existence of the instructor. Jane Tompkins observes that for many instructors (including herself for most of her career) an audience is needed to reinforce that the instructor is smart. In the broader sense, the audience confirms that the instructor exists: I am heard, therefore I am. In more specific terms, though, the audience also affirms one's intelligence -- an affirmation that Tompkins observes most instructors crave and find essential.(9) In both roles the aggressive insistent individualist needs others, but not in any constitutive way.

Other academics are more passive in their insistent individualism, desiring only to be left alone. They may be no less crusty and defiant than the aggressively overt individualist, but they are less flamboyant or strident. They forsake the bright lights of combat and fame in order to pursue private interests, without the distractions of attending to others. Some move their horizons in as closely as possible, organizing life around the smallest, because most manageable, unit possible. Colleagues are too unpredictable, and letting them get too close means losing control. Better to be isolated than to disclose the frailties of one's humanity.

There are many reasons for academic insistent individualism. Our traditions celebrate the independent mind and we can construe that independence in terms of difference and separateness rather than rigor of thought. Graduate students learn early that academic success means making names for themselves -- pursuing individual, not deeply collaborative, accomplishments. Academic freedom is often construed as protecting one's own initiative rather than defending the initiatives of others or promoting fidelity to the object of inquiry. Organizational structures can also reek of atomistic overtones and the typical academic workplace fosters insistent individualism by rewarding individual rather than team achievement. Throughout, the inhospitality of insistent individualism can be seen as protection against the vulnerability and anxiety of being an educator. Even the best of our scholarly accomplishments are fragile and short-lived; the effect of our teaching is often uncertain; and today's triumphs are no guarantee of success tomorrow. It is no wonder that others can seem potential threats to our intellectual safety. Domination and retreat appear as viable strategies, despite their isolationist outcomes.

But insistent individualism can be toxic, with the sad outcome that self-promotion and self-protection regularly turn out to be self-renunciation, thus impoverishing the self rather than enriching it. Self-absorption supplants the delight and empowerment that comes only from authentic engagement with others. However devalued, relationships to others cannot be eliminated and have ways of resurfacing. Instead of the control sought, one becomes controlled by the need to appear ruggedly independent. Remember the aphorism -- the typical faculty member is one who thinks otherwise and (we can add) wants colleagues to know it. Insistent individualism expresses and reinforces a way of thinking and a conceptual structure inadequate to education and reality alike. It can hardly be expected to promote enduring fulfillment and satisfaction.

The Collegium and Its Substitutes

The relational self points us toward community. Constituted in part by others, each self resides only in a context created by others. Within the academy this essential context has traditionally been called the collegium. It is the organizational and conceptual structure wherein faculty and student experience is both shaped and expressed. This community helps create the individual, though always with his or her cooperation. We learn how to be scholars from others, and we draw our standards and values as well as our knowledge and skills from the knowledge communities in which we dwell. Our work is initiated, critiqued, and sustained in discourse with colleagues. And it is in these actions of mutual reciprocity that the community achieves its identity. It provides the common ground that supports a common good.

The hospitable collegium is a tertium quid, neither a collective nor an aggregation of members. The former contains an excess of uniformity. The latter involves a deficiency of connectedness and represents a major challenge to the academy today. In an aggregate, insistent individualists cancel each other out, each pursuing his or her primary objectives in isolation. The common good is only the thin sum of compatible individual goods rather than an object of prior reflection and commitment. Aggregations mask a fragile truce, easily broken when self-interest prompts. They reflect an implicit social contract -- individuals join together in order to protect and advance their own interests. They do not establish a covenant with one another in commitment to a greater common good.

Many academics "fall" into the social contract mentality. Some, of course, enter the academy that way. But for others, age, routine, fatigue, and fear of the other contribute to the insistent individualism that develops. Many tire of constant battling -- preparing and standing in readiness for it, waging it, or watching it being waged. Surely Julius Getman speaks for others when he recalls entering academic life expecting that "universities provided an opportunity for caring relations, a sense of community, an atmosphere in which ideas were shared and refined, an egalitarian ethic, and a style of life that would permit time for family, friends, and self-expression."(10) All too soon he found that hierarchy and competition dominated, teaching and scholarship seemed removed from the concerns of humanity, marks of professional accomplishment were elusive, and the personal meaning he had expected was often beyond his grasp.

The Reality of the Collegium

What Whitehead called the fallacy of misplaced concreteness occurs when a derivative entity is treated as though it were the more concrete and fundamental reality. In the academy, the prior and more fundamental reality is the covenantal community from which the social contract is abstracted. Just as the insistent individualist is an abstraction from the richer and more fundamental relational self, so too is the social contract an abstraction. The collegium as social covenant is the basic relational community wherein members are linked by a common promise to attend to one another in joint pursuit of the common good. Douglas Sturm gives expression to the notion of covenant community when he calls it a structure of interdependence in which "each member is acknowledged with deepest respect by all others and is nurtured and advanced by the relationship. . . the common purpose served by all is to maintain and enrich the association itself, but precisely because the association is integral to their own self-development as social beings."(11)

The collegium as covenant community is created and sustained by the mutuality of promise and commitment to hospitality. These promises and commitments are the ordering principles in a public compact. Embrace of these principles confers the right and expectation of mutual criticism, a public criticism of the common good and of individual contributions as bearing on it for good or ill. It is precisely this avowed willingness to criticize and be criticized with reference to a substantive concept of the good, not just procedural rules, that creates and sustains the collegium. The academic covenantal community is characterized by reliability and faithfulness, an absence of arbitrariness and whim, and a commitment to reciprocity as critical to empowering the self, others and the common good. Membership is by participation, not simply consent.

As a covenantal community, the collegium forms and informs members in the qualities of hospitality. For some members such formation is a reinforcement of character traits already in place and practiced. For others, formation in hospitality requires transformation -- a change from rules imposed from without to dispositions nurtured from within. In both cases formation sustains bonds among members -- forms of connectivity marked by mutual respect, interaction, and reciprocity. At its most hospitable, sharing involves disclosing inner parts of oneself -- particularly aspects of the personal meaning and value one attaches to the inquiry at issue. Such intimate disclosures may be rare, but being hospitable means being prepared for them.

Being hospitable within the covenantal community involves willingness to sustain the integrity of both self and other through interactions that involve confrontation. Constructive critical interaction between those with differences is a major mechanism for promoting community and individual growth. Open and honest conflict that marks sincere and searching disagreement advances the collegium. For this kind of conflict is communal and public in character -- not competitive and private, advancing only the good of the individual. As Parker Palmer observes, "competition is a secretive, zero-sum game played by individuals for private gain; conflict is open and sometimes raucous but always communal, a public encounter in which it is possible for everyone to win by learning and growing."(12)

Every collegium needs regularly to renew and extend connectivities among its members. Healthy communities periodically review and repossess (perhaps also reformulate and recharacterize) the warrants for knowledge embedded in the standards of discourse they embrace. It is these warrants that function to justify knowledge claims. If standards of evidence reflect only the dead weight of the past -- if they are not reappropriated, examined, and defended in ongoing discourse -- the collegium dies. It lacks the life, energy, and integrity needed to prosper. As Michael Oakeshott argues, educators must be "continuously recovering what has been lost, restoring what has been neglected, collecting together what has been dissipated, repairing what has been corrupted, reconsidering, reshaping, reorganizing, making more intelligible, revising and reinvesting."(13) And members of the collegium must have an eye not only to the past but toward the present and the future as well.

Hospitality helps constitute healthy communities in which members support one another in the advancement of learning. The hospitable collegium permits, indeed facilitates, sharing of intellectual space. The healthy collegium constructively shatters comfortable self-images of being secure in achieved knowledge. It permits the disorder that comes when control is abandoned, for appropriate self-regard cannot be achieved apart from regard for others that is incompatible with controlling behavior.

However, there is no requirement that the collegium defined in this way be coincident with the academic department. Counter examples spring readily to mind. Many departments are fragmented and in conflict over different ideologies and/or pedagogies. They may contain several collegia and these in turn may embrace faculty in other departments or schools. In the latter case, an informal but potentially powerful collegium overlaps portions of a number of departments. Members of this collegium are united by shared commitments to research methodologies, pedagogical values, or service activities. Each member at least tacitly covenants with others to effect the common good of the collegium and the wider institutional environment in which it is located.

Conclusion

The process of nurturing and sustaining the hospitable collegium takes time. There is no instant or automatic path. The cultivation of academic hospitality demands individual acts of hospitality which become habits, and then steady dispositions and ultimately a way of life. The methods are multiple, though most involve small steps that require conversion from insistent individualism to collegial professionalism. Clearly, most of the academy falls short of the standard suggested here. I do not think that hospitality comes easily to many. It must be learned and worked at. But practicing hospitality does correspond to a deep human need; it reflects the interdependence of things; it enriches relationships and makes possible new ones; and it undergirds the very reason for the academy.

Notes

1. [Back to text]  This essay elaborates upon themes developed in my Collegial Professionalism: The Academy, Individualism, and the Common Good (Phoenix, Arizona: ACE Series in Higher Education/ Oryx, 1998).

2. [Back to text]  Henri J. M. Nouwen, Reaching Out: Three Movements of the Spiritual Life (Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1975), 66.

3. [Back to text]  Ibid.

4. [Back to text]  Michael Oakeshott, "The Voice of Poetry in the Conversation of Mankind," Rationalism in Politics and Other Essays (Indianapolis: Liberty Press, 1991), 490.

5. [Back to text]  For a thoughtful, succinct analysis of the elements of authentic conversation, see Michael A. Cowan and Bernard J. Lee, Conversation, Risk, and Conversion (Maryknoll, N.Y.: Orbis, 1997), 84-91. In conversation with Cowan and Lee, I have found support in much that I had already begun to see, and have been helped to see more than before.

6. [Back to text]  See Cowan and Lee.

7. [Back to text]  I believe C. Wright Mills was making this point some years ago when he wrote that the scholarly thinkers we most admire "do not split their work from their lives. They seem to take both too seriously to allow such dissociation, and they want to use each for the enrichment of the other." To be a scholar, he argued, is to design a way of life, to make "a choice of how to live as well as a choice of career. . . the intellectual workman forms his own self as he works toward the perfection of his craft." C. Wright Mills, The Sociological Imagination (New York: Oxford University Press, 1959), 195-96.

8. [Back to text]  Julia Kristeva, Possessions: A Novel, trans. Barbara Bray (New York: Columbia University Press, 1998), 169.

9. [Back to text]  See Jane Tompkins, "The Way We Live Now," Change (November/December 1992).

10. [Back to text]  Julius Getman, In the Company of Scholars: the Struggle for the Soul of Higher Education (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1992), ix.

11. [Back to text]  Douglas Sturm, Solidarity and Suffering: Toward a Politics of Relationality (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1998), 43f.

12. [Back to text]  Parker J. Palmer, The Courage to Teach: Exploring the Inner Landscape of a Teacher's Life (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 1998), 103.

13. [Back to text]  Michael Oakeshott, "The Study of 'Politics' in a University," in Rationalism in Politics and Other Essays (Indianapolis: Liberty Press, 1991), 194.

Copyright of Cross Currents is the property of Association for Religion & Intellectual Life and its content may not be copied without the copyright holder's express written permission except for the print or download capabilities of the retrieval software used for access. This content is intended solely for the use of the individual user.  Source: Cross Currents, Spring/Summer 2000, Vol. 50  Issue 1-2