
The first time I met Sam Huntington, I was not yet his student; I was an intern for the New Republic. I was still an undergraduate at Yale, and there was a peculiar campaign being waged by a Yale math professor named Serge Lang to deny Sam Huntington a seat in the National Academy of Sciences. I was intrigued by the whole thing, so I went to interview Huntington.
He was more troubled by the campaign than I would have ever imagined. The basic premise was this: Sam was a hawk in general, and during the Vietnam War, he had written a number of pieces, including a long report for the government and a couple of articles in Foreign Affairs, on the matter. Lang believed that this made him effectively a war criminal and argued that Sam should therefore not be part of the National Academy of Sciences. In fact, while he was a hawk on this particular issue, Sam was actually on the dovish side of the debate. He was arguing that the United States needed a much more political, rather than military, strategy in Vietnam. But Lang was fixated on one page of Sam's work.
What I remember most, however, isn't the details of the case, but how transfixed I was just sitting there talking to Huntington, thinking to myself, "this is so fascinating." He was able to take policy debates and frame them in a much broader theoretical context. Sam was able to explain to you what confirms and what falsifies your argument.
A couple of years later, as a Ph.D. student at Harvard, I started working for Sam myself.
Today, in commemoration of Huntington's work at Harvard, I imagine the question for most of you is why you should care about Sam Huntington and why you should read his books. I think more than anything else, Sam Huntington represented the view that social science is about connecting two large variables: the dependent and independent variable. Sam would often say to me, "You have to find a big independent variable and a big dependent variable." In other words, you've got to start with something big to explain. If you're trying to explain something trivial, who cares? Then, if you try to explain the French Revolution, you have to have a powerful reason to explain it. If you have 19 reasons that explain the French Revolution, nobody cares. He once said to me, "If you tell people the world is complicated, you're not doing your job as a social scientist. They already know it's complicated. Your job is to distill it, simplify it, and give them a sense of what is the single, or what are the couple, of powerful causes that explain this powerful phenomenon."
That's always stayed with me as the central insight that Sam Huntington had for his students, particularly at a time, and in an academic profession, in which the instinct was to go for the capillary rather than the jugular. Sam always went for the jugular. If you look at his books, he always asked, what are the biggest things in the world that need to be explained? And what do I think is going on there? He did it with post-colonial development, with American politics when it seemed to be spiraling out of control in the 1970s, with the end of the Cold War, where he saw a resurgence of ethnic and religious identity. Whether you agree or disagree with his conclusions, what is striking is how he never shied away from taking on big questions. Walter Lippmann once said, "Most people mumble because they are afraid of the sound of their own voices." When you put yourself out there, people will disagree with you, and Sam had his fair share of that. People disagreed with him vigorously, but he was trying to shed some very powerful light on what was going on in the world. And he did so in so many different fields.
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