In the interest of our discussion on the state of intellectualism at Princeton, it is useful, perhaps, to look at historical precedents. The German Marxist literary critic and theorist Walter Benjamin (1892-1940) provides, in my opinion, quite an applicable one.
In an early essay entitled "The Life of Students," written in 1914-1915, Benjamin describes and critiques the state of the German University student in the early twentieth century to ultimately set out his philosophy of history. His ideas are remarkably relevant to our own twenty-first century discussion. Before I delineate some of his main points, I warn you, dear reader, that I can, by no means, rehearse Benjamin's entire argument; nor can I give a complete explanation of his essay.
I do, however, want to focus on a few germane ideas. Benjamin observes that, "for the vast majority of students, academic study is nothing more than vocational training . . . The innocently hypocritical reservations people have about scholarly disciplines include the expectation that academic study must lead to a profession for all and sundry." It seems that, even in 1914, parents were asking their children: "You're going to be an English major? But what are you going to do with an English major?" (The choice of "English" as a major here is completely arbitrary, and could be just as easily substituted by almost any departmental course of study.)
Prospects for professions and careers governed academic endeavor and sent it under the yoke of the utilitarian: What you studied at a university was what you would do when you left. Benjamin notes that bourgeois society sanctioned only "the official professions of doctor, lawyer or university professor," banishing academic work to the position of maidservant for these professions. Benjamin's bourgeois short list bears striking resemblance to the post-graduation plans of many Princeton grads: consultant, I-banker, law school, med school.
It is not my intention to belittle these career paths: These positions are integral to today's society. I am concerned, however, with Benjamin's observation that "where office and professions are the ideas that govern student life, there can be no true learning. There can no longer be any question of a devotion to a form of knowledge that, it is feared, might lead them astray from the path of bourgeois security." Not only are academics subjugated by the professions, but, it seems, academic and intellectual passion might also be hampered. Could the Princeton's student's lament that there is "not enough time" to participate in intellectual dialogue outside the classroom indicate this very hampering? Perhaps we are spending so much time climbing the ladder to our respective post-graduation goals that we forget that university life can and should involve a delight in academics.
Is it any wonder then that interest in Prospect Avenue is so lively and the fear to leave Princeton is so great? Benjamin observes that "German students are to a greater or lesser degree obsessed with the idea that they have to enjoy their youth . . . because students have sold their souls to the bourgeoisie, along with marriage and profession, they insist on those few years of bourgeois freedom . . . a dearly purchased state of intoxication is created, the right to which is not to be denied." My peers balk at students who opt not to spend every Thursday and Saturday at the Street; outright complaints echo through the halls when assignments preclude drinking at one's club; the argument of "your only young once, live it up" resounds just as clearly in today's Princeton as it did for Benjamin in 1915.
It is this only-going-out-is-fun attitude which I think hinders some of the intellectualism on campus. Don't get me wrong: Going out can be fun. But so can studying. Our days here at Princeton are wonderful, but that does not mean the "real world" will be horrible (different, yes, but not necessarily horrible). Being young is great, but, if you do what you love and what brings you passion, can't getting older be just as, if not more, fulfilling?
I came upon this essay by Benjamin in an independent reading group which German professor Michael Jennings was holding at the request of one of his students. We met on Friday afternoons last fall and discussed one or two of Benjamin's essays, simply because we were interested and because, dare I say, we enjoyed it. In this same essay, Benjamin writes, "Such a hazardous self-dedication to learning and youth must manifest itself in the student as an ability to love, and it must be the source of his creativity . . . [the student] should be an active producer, philosopher, and teacher all in one, and all these things should be part of his deepest and most essential nature." This is not necessarily an injunction to run to 1879 Hall and join the Philosophy Department. It is to rather be a philosopher in the etymological sense of the word, a lover of wisdom. Perhaps it is only by loving what we do, enjoying what we study, being fundamentally interested in learning, rather than studying, acting and questioning simply as means to an end, that we will begin to foster a sense of intellectualism and build a community based on a love of wisdom. John Lurz is an English major from Timonium, Md. He can be reached at johnlurz@princeton.edu.