Memories of a Very Special Mentor

When I first came to MIT for graduate studies, Hayward hired to help “clean” the FACS dataset. I was initially surprised that the case codings were drawn from multiple sources, written by scholars from both the US and abroad. I came to realize that this openness to other perspectives was the hallmark of Hayward’s approach to scholarship.

I enjoyed working as Hayward’s assistant, but he was not initially the chair of my dissertation committee, though he was a member. After about a year of researching a rather pedestrian project – and thoroughly falsifying my core hypothesis – I stumbled across something intriguing. As I researched agricultural trade disputes, I found that different narratives of what was ostensibly the same case told different versions of what had happened, what was happening and what ought to be happening. I thought that the differences in how the parties to a dispute understood what was, what is, and what ought to be would provide the framework for my dissertation.

One of the most important and memorable days of my life was when I sat before my dissertation committee and told them of the new direction my dissertation was taking. Hayward turned to his colleague and said simply, “I think I should supervise this.” That is when I knew that I was on the right track. Having Hayward as my dissertation advisor was infinitely valuable for me. He read my work with extreme care and often seemed to understand more about what I had written than I did. He saw possibilities and insights that I had not yet discovered. He didn’t want to let go of a dissertation until its richness had been fully mined. He was my advocate, pushing me to greater depth of understanding.

And then there was the personal side of Hayward, the caring, considerate person who delighted in his students successes, but who worried about the student who was hospitalized or the one who might be lonely. He was a person who knew joy from his family, and we, his students, knew that from the way he spoke so warmly of Ann and of his daughters and their families.

I will always remember Hayward as the paradigmatic mentor: the scholar-teacher who cares about his students as people, trains them to be independent thinkers, lives his life with a sense of wonder, and dedicates himself to the cause of justice. He taught me in the classroom, through supervising my dissertation, by continuing to mentor me until his too early death, but most of all, just by providing the example of his own, well-lived life. I feel very privileged to be an Alker student, a member of a very special club. I know that with this privilege comes the responsibility of trying to approximate the kind of mentor he was, a daunting task, but an important one. I miss his infectious enthusiasm, his boundless curiosity, and his kindness.

Although it’s impossible to give a complete list, here are . . .

A Few of the Lessons I Learned From Hayward

Statistical significance does not equal truth.
Language matters. Words are data.
Dialog requires listening as well as speaking.
Time is too precious to waste it cleaning your desk.
Partial world orders are overlapping and inter-penetrating, and that’s a good thing.
Seek balance in your life and take time to sing.
Love your family.
Care about your students.
Be heterodox.
Normal behavioral social science is boring.
Being neatly dressed is optional.
Get excited about interesting ideas.
A quickly moving index finger makes an excellent exclamation point
Publicize the work of people who have insightful things to say.
Read widely.
Forgive your research assistants when they make mistakes, even if the mistakes cost real money or time.
Transgress disciplinary boundaries.
Don’t hide your light under a bushel basket.
Seek wisdom from other cultures.
It’s OK for your footnotes to have footnotes.
Travel.
Help younger scholars even if they aren’t “officially” your students.
Be generous with your time when asked to write letters of recommendation or tenure reviews.
Support political causes you believe in.
Be charitable – in all senses of the word.
Not only is it impossible for social science to be value-neutral, it is an ethical imperative to seek moral ends with one’s research.
No matter how much you wave and flap your arms around in class, you won’t become airborne.

Renée Marlin-Bennett