Stop giving us treats

Last year, my family decided to adopt a puppy. The puppy arrived at our house when she was about the size of my foot, and she was adorable. We accepted all her charming quirks, including peeing on the living room carpet, but as time went by, our puppy outgrew her cuteness, and we had to face her mischievous behavior head-on. Whenever she disobeyed, we locked her in her kennel. When she was well-behaved, we treated her to a bone-shaped doggy biscuit, which she adored. She liked the biscuits so much that she began behaving just as we hoped she would; she stayed off the couch, peed only in the yard and never barked at guests. Those treats worked a particular kind of magic.

Lately, I’ve begun to feel a lot like a puppy here at Princeton.

How many times a week do we find emails in our inboxes promising that in return for good civic behavior — signing a petition or attending an event — we will be rewarded with some kind of treat? Whether it is Chipotle in return for supporting cancer research or cupcakes in return for signing a petition against sex trafficking, Princeton students are being conditioned to respond to gastronomic incentives.

On the surface, this seems like an appropriate practice. Food is used to gain student support for important causes — what can be wrong with that? However, this creates a culture in which civic engagement is not done freely and out of one’s own volition. Increasing awareness of environmental, health and political issues should not require coercion, but rather should come naturally. We should take pleasure in giving back to our communities.

The sheer amount of food offered at Princeton can be baffling. Not only do I have unlimited access to five different dining halls, but I am also constantly allured by late meal and Murray-Dodge Café. It didn’t take long before I learned that "study break" is code for "more food than you can handle." And yet, emails promising free nourishment continue to draw crowds and persuade students to engage in activities most would otherwise ignore. Why is it that despite the copious amount of food available, we still behave as though there isn’t enough?

I think that my puppy gives us the answer — Princeton student groups have housebroken us.

We have gotten used to a system of quid pro quo: Princeton students are rewarded for their engagement with the human equivalent of a doggy biscuit. But is Princeton doing its students a disservice by suggesting that we should care about important causes only in exchange for some kind of treat? I worry that we are being primed to search for these rewards even after leaving campus. Outside of the Bubble, good deeds are rarely accompanied by a sugar-rush, yet we are breeding the kind of notion that "good" actions are only worth doing if we get something in return.

I am not advocating for an end to Princeton’s culinary opulence. I frequent Murray-Dodge more than I’d care to admit. However, we should separate civic involvement from nourishment. Food can continue to pervade our social engagements, but societal causes should be placed in a separate category. When we receive an email about supporting at-risk youth, the subject line should not have the name of a restaurant in it.

Iris Samuels is a freshman from Zichron Yakov, Israel. She can be reached at isamuels@princeton.edu.