I am a graduate of Oberlin College. I say that with a great deal of pride, because of Oberlin's place in the perceived hierarchy of institutions of higher learning. I say that with much gratitude, because Oberlin accepted me as a student despite the fact that my high-school grades were more checkered than they should have been. But I say it with some degree of ambivalence, because of Oberlin's knee-jerk addiction to every single leftist fad on the planet.
It was this fad that pushed me, at an impressionable age, from a position of strong liberalism in politics toward the middle of the road--and even, in some cases to the right. And it was not merely the stridency of the leftism that bothered me, but the unwillingness of those who advocated it to even engage in a dialogue about the pros and cons of their position versus the alternatives. This created a climate that was exactly the opposite of what was supposed to characterize a liberal-arts college.
What is amazing about Oberlin is not only was this the case in the 1970s, liberalism's last real decade of political strength, but it is also the case today. In an America transformed by Ronald Reagan and Wall Street into a banana republic, the campus is still an outpost not simply of leftism, but of the kind of leftism that would rather insist on its own answers than ponder anything that might question it. There is no better example of this than the recent kerfuffle over "trigger warnings."
If you're unfamiliar with this story, I'll let you get up to speed by clicking on the link and reading it. If you are, I'll go ahead right now and say that the ridiculous nature of the policy proposed (and thankfully tabled, for now) should speak for itself. How could any subject be taught with an uninhibited focus on learning if every instructor attempted to pad all of the subject's sharp corners to prevent every single student from being "triggered"? Is it even possible to do this? And, in any event, isn't it the mission of a college or university to explore and expand knowledge in any and all directions, no matter how uncomfortable those directions may be?
And yet, I would not be true to the spirit of those questions if I did not ask myself another one. In a world that has found increasing comfort in mocking the hardships of others, are we not lucky to have places like Oberlin, where it is at least possible to openly acknowledge those hardships, and work toward ways to address them? Isn't it fortunate to have schools where positions outside of the mainstream, and the mainstreams incessant need to compromise ("centrism," anyone?), can at least be explored fully, enabling all of us to discover not only their intellectual validity, but also their pedagogical and cultural functionality. Isn't it amazing, in a society that has become paralyzed by the very thought of change, to have places like Oberlin where change can be more than a possibility?
Well, that's three more questions. But they are interrelated and, as far as I am concerned, the answer is "Yes." And this is why the Oberlins of the world still matter. In fact, they may very well be our last, best hope for any kind of real change at all. We do not need knee-jerk leftism, but, as a nation, we need the ability to ask questions, and to have faith in the possibility of coming up with answers. Our political process has lost the ability to do either of those things. We should be deeply grateful that schools like Oberlin at least make the attempt, however imperfectly at times, to do so.
I hope Oberlin is able to resolve the "trigger warning" debate, and I believe it will find a way to do so, at least for now. But I hope and pray that its basic, iconoclastic nature never changes. The 18-year-old version of me had a tough time wrestling with it. The soon-to-be-58-year-old version of me thinks that we need it now more than ever. Society as a whole should never be like Oberlin--but it should always have many Oberlins in its midst.
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