Reflections on the Pamphleteer

Today, most of us will leave the campus to join family and friends in a day of thanksgiving. This is one of the few holidays that has survived the swamp of commercialization and the convenience of long weekends, retaining its core purpose year after year. The orthodox and secularists alike can share in the special reflection that the day offers. Giving thanks is a process that involves identifying those aspects of our lives that we ordinarily take for granted, recognizing the many often unseen forces that provide them for us, and understanding how blessed we are to have them.

My original intention for this column was to reflect for a few hundred words on some part of our common lives at Princeton that often goes unappreciated, then remind everyone just how lucky we are. It would have been quaint, but seasonal. But while I was in the process of identifying what we as a community tend to take for granted, I came across something for which we should most certainly not be thankful.

That something I refer to is the way in which we hold to our ideas. You see, I have always considered university to be a place where students come with open minds, ready to explore not only new subjects, but new approaches and considerations. In high school, I was mystified by stories of liberal teachers who had entered college years back as conservative Republicans, then learned the error of their ways somewhere in the walls of the academy. I remember wondering whether a transformation of the same magnitude could possibly happen to me.

That fabled image of the university could not have been farther from the reality I found. Sometimes in lectures I hear snickers when particularly controversial topics or names arise. Just a few weeks ago, the name Robert Bork drew audible signs of intellectual ridicule. In another context, I could imagine the name Karl Marx having the same effect. I don't mind intellectual disagreement; I certainly have my own list of disfavored writers and scholars. What I do mind is the hubris of the undergraduate student who thinks he or she can loudly reject whole theories or bodies of work without ever fully engaging the material.

All too often here, I come across students who are not studying in pursuit of any great truth. What's worse, they are not forsaking the search out of laziness, but because they seem to think they already completed it before ever being admitted to this school. Having already found truth, they are now looking simply to revise their debating points. Education in that context means learning the lines of the liberal, conservative, or secular pamphlet in order to strengthen the case for a line of thought already agreed upon. Students then becomes not scholars, but pamphleteers seeking to understand the full brochure.

I am not suggesting that education must always include a revision of one's position. Often, students may find that their initial inclinations withstand the scrutiny of close introspection. The tragedy is when a student allows his or her time at Princeton to pass without ever undergoing that process, laughing at the opposition without ever listening with both ears. Partisanship and strong opinions are fine, as long as they are accompanied by an open mindedness that allows revision to become even a possibility.

We all tend to take our ideas for granted. I grant no exceptions to that statement because of the impossibility of constantly questioning our beliefs in a literal sense. But never should we take a stand so decisive that no argument could change our minds. When we do that, our education becomes reduced to changing only the margins of our thought.

So tomorrow, when we are asked what we're thankful for and one response is the education we are receiving, let's all think for a few minutes about just what kind of education it might be. It is what we make of it, and the process is infinitely more rewarding when we allow our minds to question at the deepest levels. Lowell Schiller is a Wilson School major from Warren, N.J. He can be reached at schiller@princeton.edu.