Musk eliminates funding for Mississippi Humanities Council

Move comes amid gutting of National Endowment for the Humanities

As members of the Inspired Readers prison book club edged into a discussion of the dystopian novel Station Eleven and the question of who we would want in our post-apocalyptic tribe, one of them observed that incarcerated people are probably more aware than average Americans of the fragile boundary between civilization and chaos.

Referencing the fictional collapse of world order in Station Eleven, he said, “We are always on the brink of that. Most people just don’t recognize it.”

The key word that comes to mind in Station Eleven, as well as with book clubs like Inspired Readers and ongoing efforts to fight back against the Trump administration’s assaults on vital public agencies, is “humanity.” Unfortunately, that concept seems to carry little currency for the president and his DOGE henchman, Elon Musk.

Amid the administration’s ongoing assault on federal agenicies, it has now eliminated funding for the Mississippi Humanities Council, which administers prison book clubs including Inspired Readers and myriad other cultural programs across the state. Officials with the humanities council got word Wednesday night from DOGE, the Department of Government Efficiency, that all its NEH grants, about $1.5 million, were being cancelled effective immediately. NEH itself was targeted with wholesale elimination of most of its employees, with 80 percent of its staff placed on administrative leave, as the New York Times reported (requires subscription).

The Inspired Readers club, which I facilitate at the Wilkinson County Correctional Facility, is among 11 such clubs operated by the Mississippi Humanities Council with funding from the Mellon Foundation and the James and Madeline McMullan Family Foundation. Because it is privately funded, the program is not immediately affected by the administration’s freezing of federal funds for humanities councils nationwide, but without such funding the humanities council that administers it cannot function. The New York Times reported that for many state councils, “particularly in smaller states without major cultural organizations and a strong philanthropic base, the federal agency provides all or virtually all funding. Without those grants, some may simply collapse.”

Since 1972, the Mississippi Humanities Council has distributed federal funding to museums, historical societies, universities, community colleges and community organizations to support the state’s history and culture. After its essential funding was summarily eliminated without warning, the council announced that it would join other state councils and the Federation of State Humanities Councils in pursuit of a possible legal response. Given the administration’s defiance of other court rulings, and the looming possibility of a constitutional crisis, the potential success of such a remedy is unclear.

Against that backdrop, the Wilkinson club’s discussions of Emily St. John Mandel’s Station Eleven (also the basis for a limited series TV show), now seem particularly disquieting and telling. A world where culture and history fall by the wayside seems less far-fetched.

The book follows a troupe of actors and musicians who roam the ruins of the former United States trying to keep culture alive through concerts and performances of Shakespeare plays. The U.S. government and the society it supported have collapsed into violence, economic chaos and anarchy as a result of an unchecked global pandemic.

The members of the Inspired Readers club could easily imagine such a world. They know something about societal disruption, about making big mistakes and encountering hostile forces, and about the importance of forging ahead in the face of potentially dangerous and confounding circumstances. They also know something about finding solace in art. For them, the existential tests the book characters face and the unhinged world they inhabit were not unfamiliar terrain. All of which makes a potential disruption of the club even more deeply disturbing.

Why should anyone else care? During their book discussions, the club members invariably bring unique and sometimes troubling experiences to the table. All are violent offenders who have long inhabited the margins of society and now exist within the comparative dystopia of prison. They are convicted criminals, and many people would likely consider them societal throwaways. Yet, as the character Coraline in the movie American Fiction, who is a criminal defense attorney, observes when asked how she justifies representing guilty clients, “People are more than their worst deed.”

I also subscribe to a belief that everyone knows something I don’t know. The club members in fact know a great many such things, and it is illuminating and rewarding to watch them attempt to turn their lives around by reading books. As club facilitator, I have seen firsthand the dividends of not only encouraging people to choose a better life but helping them make it happen. Supporting prison book clubs is partly about caring what happens to our fellow human beings, but it is also about interrupting the cycle of crime that affects us all.

Neither compassion nor common sense appears to be in play with the gutting of humanities funding. In a letter to state humanities councils nationwide, NEH acting chair Michael McDonald wrote that the funds were being terminated to shunt money “in a new direction in furtherance of the President’s agenda.”

In response, the Mississippi Humanities Council issued a call to action urging Mississippians to voice their objections to their congressional representatives. The creation and funding of state humanities councils was specifically mandated in the legislation passed by Congress. U.S. Rep. Chellie Pingree (D-Maine), the ranking minority member on the House Appropriations subcommittee, which oversees the endowment, noted in a statement provided to the New York Times that the grants “were already awarded and use funds already appropriated by Congress on a bipartisan basis. The notion that these terminations are justified by a sudden shift in ‘federal priorities’ is nonsense. This is ideological targeting — pure and simple. And it is happening with no input from Congress or the public.”

A host of cultural programs including museums, libraries, and archives were told their grants were being immediately terminated. Also at related risk are programs with obvious social benefits, including one little book club of 22 members at the Wilkinson prison who are essentially on a group search for truth and knowledge.

While discussing Station Eleven, one of the club members, dressed in a prison-issued shirt and red and white striped pants, imagined leading a dystopian tribe after a civilizational collapse.

“As the pack got bigger, I would still be the leader,” he said. “But I would pay attention to, like, a child who needed help. That’s the kind of thing I would focus on. You’ve got to figure out the value of things. I learned that being locked up. Before, it was always the money someone had. Now, I look for knowledge.”

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Image: Cover of Station Eleven (author)