A new direction for Old Nassau

In last Friday's "Prince" there appeared a full-page open letter from the Undergraduate U-Council addressed to President Tilghman and members of the Council of the Princeton University Community. It subject is "a pervasive concern among students and faculty over the intellectual life of undergraduates," and more specifically "the widespread belief that intellectual life in the classroom and in the dorms, colleges and clubs is not what it should be." The letter is a thoughtful invitation to "dialogue."

Though modestly presented, this letter is in fact a revolutionary document. I am beginning my 38th year of teaching at Princeton and approaching an inevitable retirement; yet I have never seen this letter's like before. It is hardly the case, as the good Lord knows, that I have seen too few campus manifestos: Manifestoes about investment or divestment, about Gay Jeans Day, about the reform of Bicker, about the right and wrong bands for the P-Party, about the sacred duty to save the "ancient tradition" of the Nude Olympics. I have seen a banner lifted high in McCosh Quadrangle, as Lyndon Baines Johnson trembled in his cowboy boots, announcing that "The School of Architecture Condemns the War!" But I cannot recall another occasion on which a student group took up a whole page of the student newspaper to invite a broad discussion of an issue central to the mission of Princeton University.

So first I want to congratulate Josh Anderson, '04, and the 10 other students who signed the letter. I for one accept your invitation with alacrity, and I encourage my faculty colleagues to accept it. A poor man has poor ways, however, and my widow's mite of "dialogue" will come in the form of several of my weekly columns during the rest of the semester. Since I have long been of the opinion — an opinion I have not kept to myself — that indeed student "intellectual life . . . is not what it should be" or even what it has at times been in the past, it will surprise no one that these columns may advance some criticisms of longstanding patterns, policies and habits. Under these circumstances it is important to underscore and associate myself with the attractive balance and subtlety of the open letter, which acknowledges the fundament truths that "Princeton provides a wonderfully rich experience for its undergraduates" and that Princeton continues to have an articulate and effective "special commitment to undergraduate education."

No faculty member knowledgeable about the national scene in higher education is likely to be unaware of the privilege of teaching here, and especially of the privilege of working with marvelous and inspiring students. It would be very easy to propose some hypothetical and unattainable best as the rhetorical enemy of an actual and existential good, as we do all too frequently, in my opinion, in our political discussions. Furthermore the mere fact that the university operates an often annoying multi-million-dollar public relations operation designed to let the world know that Princeton is hot stuff cannot wholly negate the fact that Princeton is, well, hot stuff. But of those to whom so much has been given much will be expected; and the ethical calculus that seems obviously just in its application to our munificently privileged undergraduates cannot exempt from its claims the munificently endowed institution in which they live and work.

On Saturday, in the course of supporting two contrasting student enterprises of value, I had the leisure to begin thinking about student intellectualism and anti-intellectualism. During a long, chill and drizzly afternoon in the stadium I watched the Tigers defeat Colgate, or at least cooperate in an interesting fashion with Colgate's apparent death wish. Then in the evening, in Richardson Auditorium, I heard the Princeton University Orchestra playing Bernstein, Mozart and Wagner. I had to remind myself that these young musicians, too, are amateurs; somehow they don't rub it in.

Once one begins to the think seriously about the intellectual climate on our campus, one understands why it is seldom discussed. In this kitchen it is so very easy to break eggs, yet so difficult to concoct a palatable omelet. The question cuts very near the institutional bone and exposes to the astringent air the raw flesh of many deep sensitivities. To discuss the question requires us, first, to identify the extraordinary abdication by which for well over a century our trustees and administrators have acquiesced in if not positively encouraged a deadening dichotomy between the "social" and the "academic." Next, one cannot take three steps into this dark thicket without coming up against the formidable defensive hedgerow surrounding our admissions process, probably the least transparent of the university's essential functions. There are huge implications for the Club System and for the vast athletic establishment, both of which are hardwired to vociferous local alumni leadership groups. Nor do we faculty escape unscathed, since no small part of the problem reflects a measurable degradation of the teaching ethos of a vanishing Golden Age. Still, if I can adopt the calm irenicism of the students' open letter, it may be possible to talk about such matters without giving too much offense. I propose to begin next Thursday with an essay on "Il Gran Rifiuto." John V. Fleming is the Louis W. Fairchild '24 professor of English. He can be reached at jfleming@princeton.edu.