Following last week's column about unnecessary activism, I want to focus more directly on activism and its role on campus and in a Tufts education. "Civic engagement" is one of the big buzzwords that admissions and public relations spout relentlessly; the university depicts itself as a socially active institution that is heavily involved in community issues and service. Tufts people especially like working with poor or disadvantaged people who "need our help," and this becomes more central to our time at Tufts than any other ideas about education that might follow a more traditional path.
Those of us (I include myself here) who came to Tufts expecting to change the world immediately upon arrival in Medford have likely been disappointed in the progress so far. You (we) have almost certainly failed rather miserably in your (our) attempts to change the world and impact humanity in a positive way. And, sorry to burst your bubble, but your immediate prospects don't look too good, either. I'm not chastising you for your idealistic beliefs and outlandish ambition — I have those things, too — but I think you're confused.
Matthew Arnold, a 19th century English writer, once suggested that "poetry can save us." In this time of relatively deep unrest and growing economic turmoil, every prescription for salvation must be reviewed, so let's examine Arnold's idea in a larger context. Everyone need not read copious amounts of poetry, although Robert Frost never hurt anyone. Instead, poetry here is a metaphor for the humanities in general and education in its purest form, which is sadly lacking at our potentially great institution.
I believe that Tufts students are some of the smartest people I have ever met, and the potential here for deep engagement with education and learning is great, yet what many of us have been doing here is wasting our time. Stanley Fish, a professor and occasional blogger at the New York Times Web site, calls his column "The Last Professor" in a not-so-subtle jab at current academics that focus on changing the world instead of learning. One of his books on higher education, "Save the World on Your Own Time" (2008), pretty well describes his opinion on civic engagement and its role inside the classroom.
In multiple columns, Fish has argued that higher education, understood properly, can be distinguished by the lack of a relationship between its activities and measurable effects in the world around us. I can only bemoan the absence of this type of learning and engagement here. Tufts people seem more interested in appearing compassionate and involved than focusing on their own education. We are missing out on schooling for schooling's sake — poetry, philosophy and literature for example — where the goal is specially focused on understanding, comprehension and enlarging the mind; it is individual rather than instrumental.
You can spend hours, days or even weeks volunteering at a homeless shelter or a soup kitchen or, if you're lucky, traveling to Africa to help refugees. In fact, you ought to, if you have the opportunity — but that's not really an education. Don't delude yourself into thinking you are getting educated and learning how to create change as you do it. You might be helping a few people, but you are missing out on something wonderful if you avoid learning for your — and its — own sake.
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Will Ehrenfeld is a junior majoring in peace and justice studies. He can be reached at Will.Ehrenfeld@tufts.edu.
