What would you say if someone asked you who was President of the United States during the Civil War?

Professor Frederick Merk, chairman of the Department of History specializing in the United States, thinks he would answer "Theodore Roosevelt" if confronted with that question on an examination.

One hundred and fifty college freshmen wrote "Jefferson Davis" on the recent survey made by the New York Times, and there were enough similar replies to cause headlines that 25 per cent of college freshmen did not know the correct answer.

And now Senator Joseph P. Guffey (D., Pa.) has introduced a resolution calling for a Congressional study of ways and means to promote more adequate instruction of American history on the basis of the Times' questionnaire, according to the United Press.

It's pretty funny, because it's one of the biggest hoaxes in American history.

This conclusion should be obvious from ordinary common sense, and it is also backed by a trio of experts on the three aspects of the case--historical, psychological, and educational.

Whodunit?

Exactly where the guilt belongs is a bit dubious. It might be blamed on the students who took the test and answered it facetiously, but it seems logical to accuse the Times itself for distributing such a poll and taking the results seriously.

The procedure in most cases was this: A freshman class, preferably in American history although any other subject was all right, would walk into the regular classroom at the regular time and instead of the regular lecture would be presented with the examination, told it did not count in their mark, and instructed not to sign their names.

Under these circumstances, and with a set of questions and expected answers that Professor Merk termed "sophomoric poppycock," the only possible outcome was that each student exercised his sense of humor to a greater or lesser degree, depending on the sense of humor.

But the Times, for some reason, failed to recognize this. Benjamin Fine, the educational editor, who conducted the poll and wrote it up, stated that only about two per cent of the answers received were facetious, and "we quoted no facetious answers. They were all thrown out immediately."

Now it's pretty apparent that many of the wrong answers filling over five columns of Sunday's Times were, as he said, the honest attempts of people who "just didn't know." It seems equally apparent that 1500 out of 7000 students would not call Casey Jones a prominent figure in the history of America's railroads if they expected to be graded on their papers.

According to Professor Henry W. Holmes '03, of the Graduate School of Education, there was "poor motivation for serious taking of a test. In fact, no one would take it seriously unless he took everything seriously."

Just how many people answered in good faith is difficult to determine. Probably the best "index" question would be that on the Civil War President. The Times says that 25 per cent of American college freshmen do not honestly know the answer to this question. A consensus of American history teachers at Harvard and other colleges revealed 2 as the more likely figure.

This leaves a facetious fringe of about 23 per cent, which is of course only an approximation at best since the temptation to play around varied with the questions. However, this estimate from the negative point of view ties in with the positive example of the aforementioned Casey Jones, where 21.4 per cent couldn't resist.

You Can't Win

Even if the students had tried to answer correctly, they seem up against a marking set-up that would make even the most abject apple-polisher protest with fire in his eye.

For example, the Times was greatly distressed because only 15 per cent placed Portland. Ore, on the Columbia River as the Times expected them to. The current Rand-McNally Atlas places it squarely on the contributory Willamette, with the city limits stopping noticeably short of the Columbia. "Close, but no cigar."

But that doesn't prove much more than that even the New York Times (All the News That's Fit to Print) can be wrong, since it is probable that even less than 15 per cent would have known the exact location of the city.

The Times marking system also falls down on several of the broader questions. Only 15 per cent of those taking the test knew that the Times thought that America's policy toward China was "Open Door," although Fine says that "friendliness" would have been acceptable. Anyone who went beyond the catchword was ridiculed.

On this basis, the Times first of all disagreed with Mme. Chiang, who has been stumping the country saying that it's all very well that America likes China, but China would appreciate a few more fighting, planes. One ignorant student was ridiculed for saying "Sympathize but do little else," while another was incorrect in saying. We have sent supplies to her but not in quantities."

Say It Isn't So

Of course, these can be quibbled against because they do not represent, official tradition, but instead show that the war has taken precedence over such tradition in the minds of American students. But what of those who tried to explain what the Open Door meant in practice? It was just too bad for those who used the word "exploitation" because everyone knows that American businessmen have had only humanitarian motives in bringing the symbols of modern civilization to the home of the oldest culture in the world.

The Times states indignantly that "For the most part the students thought that our policy had been to prevent immigration, to send them missionaries, and exploit her." It all depends on the point of view, and emphases differ. A number of Harvard Faculty men say they would give credit for those "errors."

In the lists of the major contributions of Lincoln, Jefferson, Jackson, and Theodore Roosevelt, the facetious student and the opinionated marker came into violent contact, and the results are both amusing and amazing.

Merk Flunks

Only 12 per cent could give two major contributions of Andrew Jackson, which is pretty bad. But Professor Merk would have been among the ignorant 88, since he emphasized Old Hickory's bringing the common man into politics through the party system. The Times didn't.

One the other hand, the several hundred who credited T. R. with his kid cousin's pet agencies like the NRA and the WPA weren't serious no matter what the Times may like to say, and his collection of animal heads, while famous, is on a par with the more prevalent Mr. Jones of railroad prominence.

A similar question, identifying various famous figures including John Burroughs, Nicholas Biddle, and Alexander H. Stephens, brought out the collegiate sense of humor in all its glory. One of the best lines, which hundreds thought of, was calling Walt Whitman a popular band leader.

Still another fault to be found (they keep cropping up), which led the Professor Holmes' statement that "These startling things aren't so startling" was the opening question, "Name the thirteen original states." Newspaper headlines may make the fact that only six per cent of the freshmen polled could do this but while very few people can name all 13, a fair question which called for 11 or even 12 might have produced a more favorable result to the students, although not to the Times' campaign to have American history made a compulsory study.

It all began last May when Allan Nevins, professor of History at Columbia University, wrote an article in the New York Times Magazine in which he called attention to what he called deficiencies in higher education regarding the teaching of American history. The Times then took up his crusade, discovered that only 82 per cent of the colleges in the country require students to take the subject, and waxed editorial. This poll is supposed to answer the argument that U. S. history is adequately treated in secondary school.

Psychologically...

Just how little the questionnaire did prove, and its deficiencies by every psychological standard, is described succinctly by O. Hobart Mowrer, of the department of Psychology, assistant professor of Education.

"Although American youth today have anything but an amused and facetious attitude toward their country and its role in world affairs, the New York Times has nevertheless managed in its recent inquiry to elicit some rather good humor. That the Times does not, however, fully appreciate the funny side of the results of its 'research' is indicated, for example, by its statement that references to 'William Lewis' and 'John L. Green' and to Samuel Gompers as "Samuel Goebbels' and 'Sam Grumpers' show a hazy or sloppy idea of correct spelling.'

"The fact that 1,500 student listed Casey Jones as a 'famous railway man' and that about half of the total of 7,000 suggested that William James was the brother of Jesse James was also apparently lost on the Times. I understand that the Times has informed the Crimson that only two per cent of all the replies to the questionnaire were not serious and that these were carefully excluded from consideration in the tabulation of the published results.

"The Time' conclusion that 'high school students now possess an insufficient knowledge of United States history' may be correct, but the evidence which is submitted in support of this thesis suggests even more strongly that the Times itself is 'astonishingly misinformed' concerning the legitimate and scientifically valid use of questionnaires.

"The Times' questionnaire was apparently presented to the students in such a way as to arouse suspicion as to the motivation behind it and to make them wonder how the results would be used. The circumstances were also apparently such as to annoy the students and to invite ironical and flippant answers (e.g., Portland, Oregon, was frequently said to be located on the Mississippi River or on the Atlantic seaboard, and Franklin D. Roosevelt was listed among the presidents who have been assassinated).

Ask a Silly Question

"Conscientious users of the questionnaire technique make sure, by personally interviewing an unselected sample of the persons covered by the questionnaire, that the written replies are truly representative and have been made without misunderstanding and in good faith. The way in which the Times' results have been presented suggests that sincerity and good faith were perhaps lacking on both sides in this instance. An irresponsible inquiry deserves irresponsible replies."

About the only concrete conclusion that can be drawn from the questionnaire and the answers published in Sunday's Times is that the country's class of 1946 has a mass sense of humor that the state of the world has been able to keep within reasonable bounds, but has not been able to kill. In fact, the survey set off a mass of spontaneous kidding all over the nation that might in some way be taken to show the essential unity of thought in the current "lost generation," if the Times and the many officials and editorialists who took this farce at its face value must draw a moral.

The Literary Digest poll can move over.