With recent calls for institutionalized support for various campus constituencies, however, the Gassetian in me has awoken once more. In the midst of a growing demand to be taken care of, to be given an artificial sense of belonging, Ortega y Gasset serves as a reminder that there is value in feeling unmoored.
Nowhere was this clearer than in two Daily Princetonian articles noting Princeton’s lack of a “humanist chaplain” for atheist students on campus. In keeping with campus tradition, I might point out that this equation of atheism with humanism unfairly excludes (marginalizes?) non- or anti-humanist atheists. To paraphrase a popular saying, atheism is no more a philosophy than baldness is a hair color; a number of prominent nonbelievers, including Slovenian philosopher/psychoanalyst/comedian extraordinaire Slavoj Zizek, have quite explicitly rejected humanism in their work.
But, if it commits one to no particular philosophical school, atheism, at the very least, entails a rejection of overarching dogmas and comforting myths. It is, in many ways, an embodiment of Ortega y Gasset’s dictum. Consider for a moment what an atheist must believe: That death could really be death. That there is very likely no “higher being” caring for us, with no son bearing a message of love. And that the universe, as a result, will never really work (or perhaps even be comprehended) on our terms.
How miserable. How desolate. And how at odds with the ethos of plaintive whining and insta-uplift that underlies calls for institutional support. The heroic figure posited by Ortega y Gasset, what he calls the “shipwrecked” man, does not expect truth or meaning to come easily. He certainly does not demand to be called special, for the simple reason that it may not be true. Atheists, you’ve already read “The God Delusion” for the eighth time. Let’s take on the self-esteem delusion.
Some disclaimers are necessary here. Of course, some groups are genuinely at a disadvantage on campus; of course, some groups genuinely need institutional support (low-income students come to mind). But there is a yawning gap between acknowledging wrongs and making a fetish out of being wronged. Recent calls for emotional sustenance reflect what some commentators have called the “therapeutic ethos,” an ethos that looks at humans as fundamentally wounded souls and thus as souls in need of constant nurturing. The otherwise puzzling ideology of self-esteem begins to make sense in light of this: In place of the rather self-evident principle that people love themselves a little too much and should be gently corrected in this respect, high school health teachers across America are told to treat students as if each has some deep hurt lying within him.
The result is a broader sense of entitlement, one that leaves an ugly mess after bubbles are burst. I share the concern over grade deflation and the relative handicap it imposes on Princeton students; but I suspect that part of the resistance to change owes itself to a justifiable sense, all too common among academics, that college students have become spoiled brats. We are, in a sense, reaping what dodgeball’s demise has sown.
Cui bono? Who benefits from such infantilization? Those who do the nurturing, of course, ranging from therapists to lifestyle coaches. In a campus context, this is where the “institutional” in “institutional support” is key: New dependencies lead to new administrative positions and new opportunities to spend student money. It also provides a troubling temptation to rent-seeking activity, with representatives of campus groups demanding their share of an already-strained University budget.
Princeton students should be above this. We have cultivated a proud tradition of student independence, ranging from autonomous eating clubs to a self-regulating honor system. But the continued proliferation of “marginalization” claims, and the recent spate of Daily Princetonian articles covering them, suggests that the therapeutic ethos continues to have a hold on our consciences. Such guilt, though well-meaning, is thoroughly unnecessary and ultimately harmful. Princeton can acknowledge victimhood while celebrating virtue.
Andrew Saraf is a history major from Chevy Chase, Md. He can be reached at asaraf@princeton.edu.