Why Princeton needs tools

Though we have been using the word “tool” in everyday speech for the better part of a decade, I am beginning to get a distinct feeling that none of us knows exactly what it means. Regardless, we apply it almost indiscriminately to individuals who do not meet our social expectations in some way or another. The concept of “tools” or “toolishness” is so pervasive in our adolescent and college culture that we would be remiss without it as a convenient label for the socially inept.

But what is a tool? To answer this, I referred to the obvious authority on such matters: urbandictionary.com. The website’s definition wasn’t bad: “One who lacks the mental capacity to know he is being used. A fool. A cretin. Characterized by low intelligence and/or self-esteem.” Though applicable in some cases, I felt that this definition pigeonholes an otherwise diverse and interesting group of individuals. And of course, it depends on how you define each term. For example: low intelligence? Regarding Princeton, you can argue that we’re either the most or least intelligent people on the planet, depending on which domain of intelligence you choose to assess.

The focus is also a bit off. Under this definition, one might call a typical, shy nerd a tool, which certainly is not a valid classification. Tools also have a strange sense of self-assurance combined with an eagerness to please that is unprecedented among their peers. It is where arrogance and a mad passion for advancement collide. A tool is someone who will do anything to get ahead but cannot modulate this behavior to fit the needs of particular situations, resulting in a mild admiration of his or her superiors and a fiery hatred of and disgust for his or her peers.

My point is that the conventional definition of tool is too vague — or at least too vague to apply to Princeton.

On a whim, I Googled the conventional definition of tool: “anything used as a means of accomplishing a task or purpose.” And then everything suddenly became embarrassingly clear. “Tools” are, in fact, tools. They are “used” by those around them. Sure, on the microscopic level, this boils down to tools delivering Wawa hoagies to their friends. In the larger sense, however, they define Princeton as a whole.

I am talking, of course, about life after Princeton and the legacies our alumni leave behind. Who are considered the biggest tools at Princeton? Most would say the Wilson School and politics majors. Why? Because they have devoted themselves to the real or perceived improvement of society. (Others often see this as pure hubris, if not downright insincerity.) They have spent a summer in Africa promoting the use of condoms to protect the local population against AIDS. (Or maybe they were just stacking their resumes?) After each question in class, the hands of tools shoot skyward as muted groans fill the classroom. They send relevant news articles to their preceptors with the hope of boosting their grades. They highlight all the readings.

Princeton’s motto is “Princeton in the nation’s service and in the service of all nations”? Is there anything more pretentious, more showy, more ... toolish than this? The connection between Princeton’s motto and the achievements of Princeton’s alumni is not a coincidence. Compared to peer institutions, Princeton does not produce world leaders (we have two U.S. presidents to Harvard’s five). Rather, Princeton alumni are the lieutenants, the generals, the brilliant minds standing just offstage. Think John Foster Dulles, Class of 1908. Think David Petraeus GS ’87. We do not produce the people who just tell others what to do. We are the ones who listen and make it happen. Who would better serve in this role than Princeton’s tools, who have trained their entire lives to meticulously carry out the will of their superiors? Nowhere else can one find a group of individuals who will work so hard for the benefit of their superiors. Tools, through their pursuit of greatness and approval, form the essential penultimate rung of the power ladder.

So let’s not disparage the tools while they’re here. The Wilson School has a toolish reputation for a reason. Tools need us to lift them above our shoulders and project them into the public sphere. Likewise, we need them to perpetuate Princeton’s world-class reputation. We are a population, a colony, a hive built from the hard labor of tools. In the end, do their motives really matter? So what if they’re not as truly altruistic as they claim to be? Is it really such a big deal that they inconvenience us by simply getting on our nerves? I think not. In the end, we need them much more than they need us. Maybe it’s time we just face the music and lift our caps to those who will later shape our future.