After completing nearly 40 years at Barnard, this last year was, like all years, filled with surprises. This began when Idris Leppla published an opinion piece in Spectator titled “The Truth About the Academies” (Sept. 7, 2007). Idris, my advisee, has been throughout her undergraduate career at Barnard an outstanding student among the thousands that I’ve been privileged to teach in my political theory courses. Her article reflected the attitudes of a country deeply involved in an agonizing war. It raised questions about education and the military. But she had a particularly personal angle that made it controversial. Idris’ brother had just entered the U.S. Naval Academy, and she challenged the emphasis given in an academic institution to abundant “seminars about weaponry and leading troops into combat.” She concluded that the Naval Academy “is first and foremost a branch of the U.S. military.”
For those like myself, wondering why Columbia University had mustered no significant anti-war protest of the kind that I found when I arrived here, her article came as a sign that perhaps a spark of criticism of the military would ignite a movement of dissent. In fact, much to my amazement, there came forth an unprecedented tide of abuse in columns, letters and blogs that cannot be dignified with the term “criticism.”
Thoughtless, spiteful, or misogynist, they attacked not only the mind and character of Idris, but the academic quality of her college, ignorantly claiming that Barnard must not be identified with Columbia, because they are not part of the same university.
Idris remained strong throughout this storm of vilification. She now concludes her distinguished career not only with honors from Columbia University but, just as strikingly, the a prestigious Fulbright Scholarship to study aspects of advanced medical research in France, a reflection of her extraordinary intellectual ability. Her firm resolve not to lower herself with retaliation has been redeemed. It might serve as an example for political candidates who automatically adopt an attack mode when faced with criticism.
The fact that Idris received no public support from our community, including the Spectator, should have signaled to me that dissent in general had lost momentum on campus. The countless blogs seemed either blissfully unaware that we are in an Iraqi quagmire, or ferociously defensive of the military. As I reflect on this last year in the context of the decades I’ve been here, it seems that Columbia’s tradition of civil disobedience peaked in 1985 with its stupendous student resistance to apartheid. I find it surprising that during last fall’s small protest against University expansion in Harlem, the stellar stance taken by over 500 students in April ’85 to press Columbia’s divestment in South African commerce was seldom invoked or emulated. The ’85 action was entirely successful in terms of its strictly nonviolent methods, mobilization of the students, and attainment of goals. There has been much hoopla about the “revolt of ’68” due to its anniversary this year. We may better analyze the far more effective model of ’85.
As a faculty member, I wish to acclaim during this last year, as in previous years, the superb academic excellence of this University. This was evidenced most recently by evaluations of national universities and liberal arts colleges by the Center for College Affordability and Productivity published this month in Forbes magazine (May 19). It corrects the inadequacies of comparable assessments in U.S. News & World Report by focusing first on student evaluations, precisely where the emphasis should occur. Among all national universities, Columbia ranks sixth (up from ninth by U.S. News) and Barnard eighth, compared with all liberal arts colleges (in sharp contrast to U.S. News’ rank of 30th). All indicators suggest that this University maintains its tradition of scholastic accomplishment.
No faculty can complain about such evidence of superlative student IQ. But what about our EQ—emotional quotient? Certainly there have been few attempts to measure emotional intelligence because it lacks the precision of a grade point average or SAT score.
Neither U.S. News nor CCAP mentions what “emotional intelligence” entails, although the latter boasts that it improves on the former by determining students’ “professional achievement.” Can such accomplishment include standards like the quality of caring on campus? Or the spirit of community? Those concerned with our endowments do worry about how payback is reflected in “school spirit,” and perhaps they would be more attentive to EQ if a correlation could be shown with cash.
Students this year, as in previous decades, come asking me for recommendations to transfer, and they invariably have the same reason.
“Social life here sucks. There is no sense of community.” This year, two campus student organizations and their own alums did try earnestly to enhance our solidarity. The first, about which I’ve written before in Spectator, is Take Back the Night. It deserves a special award from the University for lifting our EQ through its steadfast student initiative and commitment. The march was smaller this year, partly because we failed to mobilize more men, but the speak-out continued to move us with uncanny power. This event alone demonstrates that the emotional intelligence is there. Why is it not enthusiastically supported by active participation from faculty and administration?
The other student organization is Students Against Silence—i.e., the silence of the administration to problems of mental illness or disorders on campus. This was founded in April 2002 after a tragic series of student suicides. The loss of the students was bad enough, but what made it worse was the sense of an uncaring community that followed each death. The first SAS event was a vigil later that month, and the eloquence of its mission statement stirred students to action. Many other SAS meetings, speak-outs, Centennial Scholars projects, and “sacred slams” of spoken-word poetry have followed. Most recently the group has published a campus magazine under inspired new leadership.
Undoubtedly the most memorable single occasion for me of the last year occurred during my final class at Barnard, marking my retirement. Most of the 12 alums who founded SAS came to that lecture, to surprise me with their abundant EQ. They poured empathy into 202 Altschul in ways that flowed through that big auditorium, as I’d never felt before, not since I started teaching in that room 39 years ago. Posters, banners, and T-shirts proclaiming an age of compassion marched down the aisles, followed by a songfest on Lehman Lawn and a mass lunch after. I felt—as I always have at Take Back the Night marches and speak-outs or SAS vigils—that there is an enduring sense of community here, however smothered by the intense competition. I leave in the hope that it will morph into innumerable forms, spreading in the hearts and minds of you all.
The author is a professor of political science at Barnard College.